He had awoken refreshed, with a few aches and bruises there and there, but they were glorious pains, speaking of the decadence of the day before. Combat, force, pleasure, deep within the temple the Priest would rise in earnest from his slumber. Another day to be offered, another day of rampant chaos that the Dark Mother would surely bless, though she wouldn’t rise to join in. No she wanted to merely watch this revelry, and part of him smirked at the attempts that whatever their phantom antagonist had planned to disrupt the proceedings. A few traps, the killing of an acolyte? She would no doubt love the blood, enjoy the helplessness those trapped had felt. No, without a doubt it would only play further into her plans. Who were they to understand that though?
The Lady Sutara had been unbound early in the morning or perhaps late at night, once the priest was certain the effects of Kirva’s blood lust had passed, and he would collapse not too far from her within his private sanctuary there within the temple. He expected her to be gone when he awoke, and now his ears would strain for sounds coming from the temple proper, for cries of pain, pleasure, agony or mad joy. Had the festivities begun anew already? A bit of time in meditation would do the priest some good, whatever the case.