They entered the mansion side by side, and their presence seemed to alter the very air of the place. The doors closed behind them with a soft echo, and for a moment the room seemed too small to contain three beings of such weight.
Ouroboros was the first to throw herself into one of the armchairs in the main hall, stretching her legs exaggeratedly, as if she were finally remembering what it was like to be in a space that did not require constant flight.
"I missed this floor," she commented, relaxed. "Flying for days on end tires even those who were born for it."
Tiamat, on the other hand, remained standing, walking slowly through the hall while observing details she hadn't seen in a while: the ancient stone columns, the discreet symbols carved into the wood, the almost invisible but absurdly refined magical protections.
"The mansion remains... solid," she said. "It grew with you."
