There were only a handful of active temples left. Tunnels stretched out through the mountains, connecting a handful more, but it seemed unwise to try and maintain them when they simply didn't have the people to do so.
There was a dream, of course, of opening up the temples. Three was hardly glorious.
That meant encouraging family growth, being able to sustain an expansion, and keeping the places protected from mountain monsters and other nosy peoples. It should be easy. Trikistanya thought, when she'd first become Mother of Scales, that it was simply a matter of sweeping out the temples, pulling down some vines, and clearing out the tunnels. It should have been that easy.
Instead, she was met with supply issues, a lack of people to send out without weakening the villages, and the High Priest making faces of disdain when she'd first suggested it. The Honored Hydra knew of her desire to expand, and seemed keen to do so, but so long as it was done carefully and mindfully. Which put her in an odd place of both having the Hydra's blessing to do so, but at the behest of the High Priest's strategic guidance.
The largest of the temples, and the oldest, held the Honored Hydra presently. Thus, that was where Trikistanya lived. The pyramid-esque shaped temple had many open, upper levels that encouraged airflow, while levels sprawled beneath the base and open up into the vast cavern of the Honored Hydra's Lair. In the hall before that, Trikistanya and her consorts lived. Across the hall, the High Priests and his ilk. Close to the Hydra, should they ever be needed.
During the late evening, Trikistanya excused herself from the lower levels to relax upon one of the upper floors. Arched supports created an open level where she could look out over the village, where fire light flickered to life as the sun set beneath the mountains. The wind played through the valley they lived on the side of, always keeping them chilled but not cold, and looked to be blowing in yet another storm.
Tiered rice fields were farther out of the village proper, though only the dark shapes of Lesser Hydra stalked the fringes of the village proper. Keeping guard, hunting. She stretched out on a lounge near one of the large arches so she could admire the view in the quiet of an evening just starting. The change from day birds to night sounds was subtle, but she enjoyed it never the less. She could mull on the problems of the village, and their people, later on.
Torches in sconces sporadically placed kept her from being in complete dark, and her personal guards were but a shout away. It was as alone as the Mother of Scales would ever be.
