Nîmes had always been an odd one, a strange mare who sought understanding in the realm of the occult rather than strength in arms. When she had made that deal with a fae all those years ago for "sight beyond sight", not only had she gotten more than she had bargained for, but she had been cast out of her own noble house for going against their code. There was no room for those who fraternized with magic.

She had lamented this initially, spending long nights debating if she had made the correct choice. Her "gift" troubled her rather than helped her to understand things as well as she had hoped, and her faerie patron promised to return when "the time was right", whatever that entailed. The prospect of what could possibly come both thrilled and startled her.

As she made her way through the Caverns, called in those early days of exile to the dungeons her blood demanded, that internal debate persisted. The scenery reminded her far too much of the fresh pact, the whiff of pollen in the air smelling startling similar to her patron's. Oh, could she take this torment? Nîmes sighed to herself, whispering quietly under her breath.

"...Perhaps I've made a great error."

Something just outside her line of sight catches her attention, the mare whipping around to try to catch what it was. The only thing left in her vision to possibly denote what she had seen was a strange mist in the air, glowing brightly in the colorful dungeon. With no direction of her own and curiosity eating at her, the blue Courser carefully followed the trail, hooves gently trotting across the mossy earth. She finds herself winding through the caves, brushing past fantastical plants and catching glimpses of wisps as they play amongst the flora. It's only when she finally pops into a clearing that she understands where that mist had been leading her.

The skull of a Courser, mounted onto a rock whose base was decorated with all sorts of offerings, stare at her through empty eye sockets. Nîmes shivers as she feels an energy in the air, yet her curiosity continues to eat at her enough to avoid the sense of foreboding and instead approach. The mare pokes around, investigating the scene before her. There's a nagging sense that whoever this had been, it'd- no, he'd- been someone very important, powerful in a sense that felt familiar. The mare blinks, shaking herself out. That was... odd? What were those feelings, and why was she so confident about certain things?

Nîmes looks around the area a bit, trying to find something. It would be appropriate to leave an offering of her own, something to quell the spirit and show him the respect he had clearly earned in life. Finding nothing even remotely worthy of giving, she sighs- but then she realizes something. With some trouble, she slips off a silver bracelet, taking the time and care to not break it. She bows her head when she deposits it directly alongside the rest of the offering, kneeling down before the skull. Closing her eyes, she murmers.

"May your afterlife have the peace you earned, exalted one."

A sense of calm washes over the clearing. There's a phantom feeling of someone else being beside her, before the presence dissipates into nothing. Letting out a deep breath she hadn't even realized she'd been keeping in, Nîmes slowly picks herself up and casts a final glance to the skull. She gets it, now. Understanding sparkles in her eyes. There's a long road ahead, but she will be strong enough to not just withstand it, but to flourish as well. As she leaves, she finally is able to put some sort of end to the argument in her head.

She had indeed made the right choice.