[h3]Domhnall[/h3]

	In spite of the fact that the savage was an unquestionable adversary and had obviously aimed to attack and more than just [i]probably[/i] kill them, a part of him nevertheless instinctively wanted to flinch when Iridiel proceeded to kick her in the face. It was brutal, and somehow more disturbing on a base level than a kick to the ribs or some other, less expressive part of one's form would have been. It was quite surprising the kick had not wholly snapped her neck and killed her nigh instantly; for the blink of an eye, Domhnall had figured his companion [i]had[/i] done just that, but the woman, though no longer fighting back, persisted to feebly move - more so than the the reflexive twitching of muscles that were yet to realize they were no longer subjected to the control of a functioning mind - and tears started to well up and drop from the savage's eyes. Pain, the realization that she had lost, the forestfolk did not know...
	The kick had served its purpose, though... The savage had been quite effectively placated, even before had a Iridiel planted a foot to her chest and pointed her crossbows at her face. She uttered something, though not in Rodorian (let alone in Éireann)... It was desperate, though who in the face of death would not have been? Criminals always pleaded innocence, did they not, and she had, without doubt, made a beeline for him and Iridiel with a clear intent to do harm... [i]Strategic[/i] harm to top it off, seeing how Iridiel was the only one of them wielding obvious ranged weapons. 
	Letting her talk, though ... it seemed fair, if there were someone who could comprehend her... [i]Right.[/i] And what were the bloody chances, had they not just figured out this group had a person amid their ranks who could speak every damn language there was, [i]at once[/i]? 
	"Ye ... Thala?" he inquired, addressing the white-eyes. He did not have a good memory for names, let alone foreign ones, unfortunately... "I think she's not a threa' anymore. Can ye ge' out?" Carefully moving closer, he held out his free hand, ready to help the white-haired woman out and up if need be (if she had not moved, chances were she was now pinned under both the savage one and Iridiel's boot). [i]Careful, though...[/i] Though pacified, the threat was still there; the woman's fingernails were literal [i]talons[/i], for Sulis' sake, and he did not need those things anywhere close to in his face...
	"And ye..." He continued, louder, looking behind his back (still making sure she was out of arm-reach, still with a knife in the other hand; there was no obvious violent intent in him, yet he was ready to react in an instant, and that reaction was liable to involve a swift stab to whichever body part had reached out to grab him), seeking out the older black-eyes - [i]what was his name now?[/i] - "Ye ... could ye understan' her?"