[i]No dismissive remark? No disapproving frown? He even smiled at me! Why, I would almost think he found himself agreeing with what I have to say. How rare[/i], she thought to herself, quietly gazing back at the necromancer as he nodded in her direction. With her hands on her hips, Jillian stood back a little and followed the exchange of words between the gathered people. So the person they were looking for was in Jevog Denûm? Of all the places! Who would live in such a desolate place and why? Either this person was not so much a person at all – possibly another dragon – or they really were an insane kind of hermit. She had mixed feelings about the prospect of going there; naturally it is a bit of an exotic locale that not many have the luxury of ever seeing up close, but on the other hand it is most likely a rather unpleasant place, and she would have preferred going somewhere more civilized to get herself back in order, and at the very least buy some clothing. Speaking of buying, where did she put…

Jillian’s heart skipped a beat when she realized that her improvised sack of possessions, which was quite literally the very last object she had left from her old life, was still in Anaxim, now probably burning to a crisp, if it hadn’t been looted by crusaders. As it contained all of her Rodlins, which was a reasonable sum to say the least, she was now essentially without money at all. She had nothing! Nothing but the rags on her body, a majority of them not even intended as clothing. Sticking with these people was not just a choice based on morale, conviction or other such intangible values. No, she was quite literally dependent on them to not die. Pelgaid was not far, sure, but what would she do there with nothing in hand? There weren’t many things a homeless and poor lady could do to stay afloat, and that was not what she envisioned her future to be like.

As she dubiously eyed her to-be-companions, she wondered if setting foot in Anaxim had been a wise decision or not. Ever since Vincent and she had gotten off the ferry, her life was thrown into a never-ending tumult, a maelstrom that mercilessly pulled her with it towards unknown depths. It all happened so fast, it was hard to fathom. It simultaneously felt so recent that she would want to think it were all a dream, a momentary phantasm, and so distant that she could nary remember the details of how it all came to be. Just last night she had been in a dingy little tavern not far from the banks of the Sloth, and now, hardly a day later, she was here amidst ancient dragons and more inexplicable beings. As if it had not been enough already, her allies were not planning on racing to the ashen wastes towards the east, to seek out Spirits-know-what, before blazing across Rodoria again in order to intercept Kevalorn before he can reach the safety of his keep. Sheer madness!

“I’m fine with that,” Gerald announced, almost as if in reply to her inner monologue, "Presuming that everyone is willing, of course."

[i]Am I fine with that? As if I had much of a choice, huh?[/i]

A sharp wind picked up and howled past the perturbed witch, causing a scarlet veil to fall over her face, much to the woman’s annoyance. The brief evening gale carried the mute swordsman’s words like a heavenly messenger, conveying his willingness to fight on for these people that he did not know. Maybe he was like her, and also had nothing left. Strange, how fate brought together all those who faced the future with empty hands. Was it fate, or perhaps just a sign of the times?

After the wind calmed once again, and Jillian had hastily shoved those pesky hairs behind her shoulders once again, it was her turn to speak again.

“A small reprieve after all the ordeals I went through would have been lovely,” she admitted, having imagined that they would have been under less time pressure than they were, ”but I suppose that’s a luxury we can’t afford, yeah?” she rhetorically asked, shrugging, “I won’t be going anywhere else, so yes, I’m willing, I guess.”