Estelle hasn't been treated unkindly, but to say that she's had a warm welcome would be misrepresenting the situation. The villages were kind enough, both pleased and excited to have their princess and newest priestess passing through, but their kindness was distant and reverent. They were her subjects, not her friends. Ivar, a silver-haired man who identified himself as Milla's handmaid, had been the exact opposite - way too personal and far from pleasant. He'd huffed at Estelle incessantly about how she needed to make sure she behaved properly and paid Milla the respect she deserved and paid attention and didn't fuss and one more thing--before a pair of female attendants had whisked her away from Ivar's lecturing and into Milla's shrine.

There she'd been undressed, bathed, and reclothed in nothing more than a tunic, again with treatment that was kind and gentle but impersonal and aloof. After that she was lead what one of the attendants called the shrine center, a windowless dome shaped room a good fifteen feet across. The room was lit with only a handful of torches, giving it a warm and cozy quality, and walls were draped with bright cloths in an array of colors. Set directly opposite the door was Estelle was ushered through was a simple wooden throne, flanked on either side by a torch and a wooden chest.

And on the throne, of course, sits Milla. She's dressed in a rather revealing outfit that's hardly suited to a god, but she sits cross-legged and straight-backed and radiating dignity. Her expression, too, is calm and remote as Estelle enters - an expression that rapidly softens into one of curiosity once the door swings closed behind Estelle.

"You must be the new priestess." Milla folds her arms and tilts her head slightly. "Estellise, correct?"