How delightful! Jillian thought sarcastically, as she was surprised that Gerald found himself agreeing with her, rather than refuting her opinion and explaining why she would have been completely wrong. It seemed that the two of them could at least sometimes agree, which would certainly help them in the future. Her emerald gaze sought to make eye contact with the necromancer but her attempt was fruitless, for he was caught up in thought and too preoccupied to share the moment with her, apparently searching for a word. What word? A very specific word. A designation for her, suitable to his point of view. The witch nary had time to consider his options before he settled for the term “companion”. Huh, a suitable word, she supposed, for that was what they were. She wondered why it took him so long to call her that, however. Friend would have been an option that no doubt crossed his mind, but it might have implied a closer bond than which they currently shared – a bond that he was very intent on keeping loose, for whichever reason. In spite of this, he chose to begin his phrase with “my”, rather than just calling her Veldaine or something impersonal. If he were given the chance, she imagined he might have wanted to change this and indeed omit the possessive article, but alas he did not have that chance. No, she imagined that the way it turned out was because of a whim or impulse, which in itself was a window into his actual thoughts and feelings as opposed to those he wanted her to think he had. Whether truth or wishful thinking, Jillian was convinced that Gerald actually desired a closer relationship with her, but forced himself to prevent this for reasons she had yet to uncover. The latter would only be a matter of time, she thought, discreetly staring at him from in between unkempt strands of scarlet hair.

Following the exiles’ thoughts, Crone and the elder dragon insisted on why this other dragon of theirs, dangerous as he may be, was to be their only hope. Jillian could not help but feel as if they were almost scolding the two of them for criticizing their plan, which in turn made her feel upset to an extent. Perhaps her reaction was a product of her naturally rebellious spirit, for she certainly was not used to being put in her place and having to accept someone else’s authority.

“I would say that, even if the Grand Master is not the source of the Withering, to claim that he and his minions are ignorant of this ploy and have no information on the matter is perhaps a little narrow-minded. We have clear proof that the Crusader’s Guild is working towards the same goal as we are, at least in this matter, which implies that they are aware and concerned, and who knows what the other cults are up to, right? What I’m trying to say is that, since we already promised to go after Kevalorn while he’s vulnerable, we should not entirely discard the possibility that he or his crooks could be of use to us. That said,” she added with a shrug, “he’s probably about as reliable a source as a man-eating dragon, so you people take your pick.”

After sharing her piece of mind, Jillian was not even sure why she chose to argue at all. She was not going to sway anyone not to visit Aliostar, and in truth it was unlikely to be any worse than having a chat with Kevalorn. Maybe she wanted to defend her position in spite of the odds. Maybe she wanted to assist Gerald in his reasoning. Maybe it was simply an expression of her not wanting to do any of the tasks set before her. Whichever it was, she lost interest in further discussing the matter, and would concede to whichever retort Crone or Renold were going to make. As she let her impression set in with the gathered people, she again focused her attention on the necromancer, her eyes analyzing his every movement with great care, almost like a scientist would observe an exotic creature. While Gerald may or may not have harbored a concealed interest in the witch, it was undeniable that she was enraptured by his secrets.