Alizome has a brief, fanciful daydream of pricking her skin with a dagger and drawing a happy face in a very thin trail of her own blood on a wall- thus defiling the temple with literal warm-blood. The idea passes- they might smell it, after all, and compromise her position. Especially since she couldn't bandage herself and the fresh blood would lead right to wherever she hid. Instead, she continues to wait, flitting from shadow to shadow, able to stay ahead of the lizards' eyes for the time being while her ears strained to pick up the slightest sound of trouble.