The amount of work done to the temple seemed to increase between each visit. Of course, it was slow work – earthmoving in any capacity always was – but already the entire complex had evolved from one central room to include a branching hallway, which currently seemed to be comprised of a study-come-sleeping-area and one or two storage rooms. The large, open foyer was still the centrepiece, with its elaborate tiling, array of empowered artefacts and most notable of all, the faintly-humming portal.

Most intriguing to Rosa was the speed with which the temple had been… populated, for want of a better term, with personal effects. The excavations, it appeared, were secondary to the arrangement of various items to be placed safely upon their respective shelves; for now mostly scrolls, books, and smaller possessions, though she had noticed the beginnings of furniture in the study. That last point caused some faint amusement whenever it crossed her mind: chairs that would fit two of her, desks that came up far higher than they needed to. The tenant here was very tall, of course.

And, invariably, it was that tenant who she always came to see. This wasn't a temple for her; even if she had been one to go to places of worship (her faith being far more physical), the altar here was dedicated to a god she barely knew, one who had been all but forgotten in the current world. Her knowledge of such a god was restricted to his name, his symbol, and the merest scraps of what Varrock Museum's archaeological team had been able to dig up.

Thankfully that last part was being soundly fixed by her routine visits here.

The entrance to the temple was still the deceptively primitive winch-and-rope affair that it had always been, though she had been promised a slightly more civilised mechanism sometime in the future. Every time she climbed down, she hoped to see it soon, and her beleaguered shoulders agreed with her. At least it wasn't an overly long drop. A short clamber down into the unassuming cavern, then a few steps along and you were there, to see the grandiose main chamber.

And, always, its sole occupant, who turned his head at the sound of footsteps echoing hollowly on aged marble.

"Rosa," said a voice so deep it thrummed in her chest as she approached, "thank you for being with me on such short notice. I understand that it is quite a trek from Taverley to Varrock." Azzanadra stood high above her, undisguised for a change. The digsite staff had been largely leaving him be in recent months, which seemed to suit him just fine. Rosa had to wonder if he had anything to do with their curious silence.

"It's not so bad with the lodestones. I'd say it's more of a trek from Varrock's lodestone to here than any other part of the journey!" Rosa's tone matched her smile: cheerful but somewhat subdued. She always felt slightly quieted in the temple, and even moreso in Azzanadra's presence. The man radiated authority.

"Even so, I appreciate your effort. You are, as I am sure you are aware, one of my more reliable contacts." He continued, turning his back to stroll further into the foyer, gesturing over his shoulder for Rosa to follow. A touch of humour entered his voice.

"And on top of that, you seem to have quite the talent for keeping the people at the Exam Centre off my back. They only take my excuses for so long, more's the pity."

"Oh! Are… are they bothering you for credentials again? I thought we had that sorted out ages ago." Rosa almost had to trot to keep up with his leisurely stride.

"No, no, thanks to your impeccable performance, they are comfortably convinced of my researcher's right to be here. Now it is simply that they ask for the results of that research."

Well, that's where the problem was, then. Rosa quirked her mouth in thought.

"What would you give them?" she asked. As far as she was aware, none of the humans above had been into the temple since before Azzanadra had turned it into his personal residence. That was probably quite intentional, since if a single one of them caught even a glance of what he had turned the place into, it would be swarming with stuffy academics within seconds.

"I can part with some of the items I have turned up here; they seem to have boundless enthusiasm for old coins and dusty trinkets. That ought to keep them suitably amused, I imagine." Idly the mahjarrat waved his hand, dismissing the conversation. "I was going to ask you to bring any such things up to them, but that can happen later. I am not going to send you away immediately after you arrive."

"Ah well, that's fine by me anyway. They're always excited to see any new findings I have to give them. An adventurer's 'broad outlook on the world', and all." She barely managed to say that without keeping the sarcasm out of her voice, but at least the joke was a shared one. Azzanadra laughed a short laugh.

"I am sure that was their exact wording, too. Thank you for doing me this favour, then, even if it may not happen today. At any rate, let us go sit. There is no need for you to linger here when I have a study."

A study that had two chairs, no less – one to match the desk and one for guests, Rosa assumed. She sat in that one and smiled internally at how her feet dangled in the air, feeling several years younger and at least two feet shorter.

"So, I would wager that you have very little to report to Wahisietel, now that the ritual has passed. Any movements we make now are either much more public or simply not made at all. There is far less for my… less civilised kin to do now. Though I do hope they have left you alone. Some of them seemed to dislike you quite intensely." The comment was made with the ghost of a smirk on Azzanadra's face, spiked chin resting in one hand.

Rosa rolled her eyes.

"I can't tell if it's genuine personal dislike or if that's just how they treat everyone. It'd be more efficient of me to make a list of the ones who haven't threatened to kill me." She replied.

"Hah! It's the second option; I can tell you that for a certainty. You would be hard-pressed to find a single shred of decency in all of them. Thankfully, even they will have gotten it through their collective thick skulls not to try anything with you; not with me back in the picture." The smirk had returned full-force now, showing off every one of Azzanadra's shark-like teeth.

That had been one of many shocks to get over in having repeated contact with mahjarrat; the skull faces had been bad enough the first few times, but seeing each one of them with a full set of shearing fangs had done very little to soften the image.

Then came the Ritual of Rejuvenation, a matter of curiosity to Rosa right up until the moment that she'd been personally recruited for it – by multiple parties.

It had been a surprise to see the imposing group of mahjarrat go from ghastly skeletal figures to the strange, angular and distressingly handsome creatures that they were now. The biggest difference, Rosa thought, was their eyes. What had been glowing, dead sockets before turned into black sclera and slitted pupils. In a way that was more unnerving than the alternative; even in the company of Azzanadra, the one she trusted the most, those eyes had the tendency to freeze her from across the room. Knowing what he was capable of, she reflected, that was probably the sensible response.

They talked about the ritual, and the others, and what current ends Rosa was pursuing. Azzanadra's previous comment was right; it had been quiet, at least comparatively so. She'd been able to go back to living in Taverley mostly without interruption, aside from that created by herself from her own travels. Little more than two months had passed since the ritual, and it seemed that the high priest was having an equally uneventful time, aside from re-establishing his knowledge of the modern day and communicating with his religious brothers.

The conversation drifted back to Rosa's situation, a turn she greeted with a shrug and mild expression. Nothing much to report there; Heart was happy to have her at home again, the plants were growing well, and the weather was slowly inching back towards warmth. Winter was hesitant to leave in Taverley, at the foot of White Wolf Mountain, but once it did it left a sparkling summer in its wake.

Azzanadra stood up in the middle of their discussion, rearranging some books in their places upon the shelves, and slotted a few more into the empty space. He pitched in on occasion, with his voice that vibrated through the air, but mostly only gave questions. By the time their chat was winding down, he'd sorted all the writings to his apparent satisfaction and was headed back to his chair.

"Rosa." He began, pausing halfway there as if a thought had occurred to him.

"May I ask you another favour?"

"Oh? Of course."

"Come here." He gestured to his writing desk, where a half-finished manuscript lay weighted under a capped inkwell. Rosa extricated herself from the (remarkably comfortable) chair and walked over, placing her hands on the table and looking on to examine the sheaf of papers. Behind her, Azzanadra stepped aside.

In one motion his hand was on her waist and the other lifting her chin gently upwards. The stately mahjarrat leaned down, red eyes bright in the space between them.

"I would like to seek your company in more ways than this." He bridged Rosa's silence with a kiss on her mouth, and she melted.

They spent a long time together after that.