Theron didn't look at the other auras, his gaze landing on the only person that mattered.
Third Elder Lyrah.
She was looking at him with a questioning look much like everyone else. It was just that hers was far better hidden, slotted away behind a level gaze that radiated hints of pleasure and a deeper façade of pride.
The pride was fake, but the pleasure—that… that was very much real.
Compared to the other disciples that walked out, Theron looked to be in the absolute worst condition. He was wearing torn and ragged robes as a skirt, the rest of his body laid bare to the world. Ironically enough, Lyra, who was still hugging him tightly, was covering far more of him than any clothes.
After a brief moment of eye contact, Lyrah nodded, and Theron took that as a cue to ignore the other elders. Since she would handle things, there was no need for him to be overly polite.
He truly wasn't in the mood.
