[h3]Aemoten[/h3]

	[i]“I can calm myself,”[/i] the young nightwalker assured him. [i]“Freagon made a point of teaching me that much, and I didn’t have Roct back then. I... Reaching out to her for comfort is just a bad habit at this point. I’ll try -”[/i] the foreign warrior raised an eyebrow when Jaelnec stopped himself, and actually grinned at him [i]“- no, I [b]will[/b] stop.”[/i]
	There was still conviction left, and faith in oneself and one's companions, was there not? It had been but minutes ago that the foreign warrior had wondered over such matters to himself - more than he had outright told Jaelnec. About how many of them actually had - or had ever had - faith in this quest of theirs. Of how Jaelnec had been the most idealistic, and also perhaps the most naive of them all. Of how days, not weeks or months, had been more than enough to have the world bite back for seeing good in a doomed being, and for one setback to follow another. Would it have been odd, then, to begin to doubt their greater aim? To give up all enthusiasm and just do because you thought you had to, it was right?
	He himself had been ... just as cynical and pessimistic as ever, chances were, but both physically and mentally much better off than he was now. And restless and mournful rather than dutiful and in love... And everything else he could not care to even begin to list. But most discernibly, he had undertaken the quest to [i]do[/i] something, not out of [i]belief[/i] in what they were doing. In a sense, he had been escaping his past - in action. If he managed to do any good in it, then the better, but it had not been the main aim of what he was doing. In the end, it was a pleasant surprise, then, that for all the hardships they came across, they [i][b]had[/b] ended up doing some good[/i], after all. Set a few things right. And find people to set one's trust in and count on.
	[i]It was always about the people fighting beside you, and those back home.[/i] He had seen Jaelnec almost broken after the whole affair with the three-quarter-demon ... it was heartening to see it was not so today. Today was mostly between Aemoten himself and Thaler, and to a lesser extent Olan, who had been caught between the gears - or dragged into the path of the Blood Devilgod's wrath as it were. Sort out their anger and let go of it, move on. Perhaps there was yet hope for mending the damage, however long it took.[i] Perhaps.[/i] 
	Jaelnec was a good man. Not without fault - none of them were, himself included, but he could only be thankful that they had managed to overcome their [i]little misunderstanding[/i] back there (which, in retrospect, they largely 
had Roct to thank for in the first place), and to have him as someone he could call a friend. Koraakan knew he would have to tear himself to shreds and still fall short if he were to continue onward on his own...
	"At the end of the day, what matters most is that our wills have remained unbroken," he surmised, tilting his head back and focusing his gaze in the distance once more. [i]Broken people do not save worlds.[/i] For the briefest of moments, something akin to an echo of a tired smile moved over his features.
	"Will" was a word with oddly many flavors, his muddled mind supplemented for reasons unknown ... perhaps he should point it out to Olan; seemed like the kind of thing that would fit his musings. 

	Jaelnec contemplated for a moment when he explained his reasoning for splitting te group into two in the manner he had descibed, and from his reply, ultimately appeared to agree with his decision - [i]“I’ll go back to the others, then, and get them to Zerul City as soon as possible.”[/i] 
	Aemoten nodded, once. As per his culture, it was the norm for people to question the words of their leaders if they were not immediately understood, or seemed suboptimal. A [i]slave[/i] did as told without asking questions. The warrior and the common denizen acted with known purpose and reason. The whys of one's deeds and decisions were important. The leader was supposed to go with the [i]best[/i] decision, not whatever they had managed to come up with first - and if the leader was incapable of coming up with a decent explanation for doing as they told, chances were their proposed course of action was [i]not[/i] a good one. 
	[i]“It should be safe between here and there, but I’ve been wrong before... be careful.”[/i]
	"I shall," he agreed. "You too." 
	The foreign warrior and a human man sighed. Whatever Iridiel had done with this Angora who had stumbled upon - nay, leaped screaming at them - seemed to have worked, as much as she could seen walking about on her own and retrieving her weapon. Quite notably without any her former savagery ... and then apparently going back to talking to people who were not Olan, seemingly in a quite normal fashion. 
	"Time to let the others know of our plans and get going," he muttered, setting way towards the rest. He guessed it was the least he was obligated to do in the way of [i]"deciding what to do with her"[/i] as he had put it to Thaler. At least introduce himself properly as opposed to just inquiring whether she was possessed and wandering off with one of his companions. And letting them know what he was doing in general was just common decently, and what a leader should minimally do. Besides, Etakar was also there, observing the quad with an air of languid interest - if anything, he bore an almost disturbing semblance to a lazy cat observing the antics of nearby sparrows. It was not even a detour. 
	He hoped there would not be much to discuss. Just ... decide what they would do with her and set off towards Zerul city. [i]Exactly[/i] as he had told Thaler he would do before she wandered off. 

[h3]Domhnall McRaith[/h3]

	Domhnall watched quizzically as Angora fetched her sword and went forth to explain her reasoning for coming along. 
	[i]"If that's really the case and your run of bad luck continues, even more reason to bring me along, huh? You know I can fight, so what's one more sword-arm to help you reach Zerul? Besides... life debts aren't easily repaid, you know." [/i]
	He supposed. Besides, who was to say the gray brute was not only the first sign of their own troubles? (The [i]had[/i] found that one on their own, as he had been quick to point out to Olan.)
	She looked ... young, though. Besides the squire, who looked even younger than her (and squires were supposed to start their service quite young, were they not? By appearances, the fellow had been in training for at least half his life...) everyone here had at least a decade on her. Absolutely speaking, anyway - it was not like Éireannach and humans aged alike. Speaking of which, he was not exactly sure how black-eyes' aged, either ... for all that he knew, the slightly adolescent-looking black-eyes could be anywhere from five to five hundred years old...
	"Woul' ye like a blanke' or somethin'?" he reflexively inquired when the girl remarked at the cold, shivering. He was slightly cool in his current attire ... he figured their newfound acquaintance was much worse off. Iridiel, in turn, probably did not mind the autumn cold. Came with him originating from the jungles and her from the mountains, he figured - something about the climate one and one's ancestors grew up in. They never seemed to agree on the temperature ... arguably, he was better off - Rodorian summers appeared worse on Iridiel than the winters did on him. It was generally easier to warm up than cool off. 
	Questions, answers ... too many of the first, not enough of the latter. Sounded 'bout right. Her mention of a brother raised another question, though...
	"Ye think the ci'y's safe fer ye tae go abou'?" Unless, of course, most people simply would not be able to associate the banshee-voiced savage they first met with her once she was, well, cleaned up again. And... As he pointed out her aura, the girl appeared confused, but then perked up and focused for a bit ... and indeed, the odd sensation of being piss-drunk and hungover at once subsided to the point of nigh imperceptibility. Yeah. That would make putting two and two [i]much[/i] more difficult. 
	Domhnall blinked. "Yeh. Mos' of tha's gone now. I's a relief fer sure." 
	And then he blinked some more as he listened the girl rattle off a whole list of relatives and their respective roles in society, more and less respected as they were. He was [i]terrible[/i] with foreign names, and he had [i]just[/i] acquired a bunch of new acquaintances. Hopefully just managing to remember that the one before him was Angora would suffice for now... Angora, Aemoten, Jael...nec?, Thale? Thala? Olan ... and the big beast. The warrior fellow had introduced this one separately, too, and implied it was more intelligent than one would expect. E-something. 
	He was torn from his attempt to recall at least the names of his new companions when Iridiel hesitantly agreed that food and wash were in order. Yeah ... he had already vocalized his agreement with finding a place to clean off dirt earlier, if mostly to spare the girl some embarrassment as they went through the city gates. 
	Food... He himself was not quite hungry yet, but by the time Angora had had the chance to clean herself, he probably would be. Unnoticeably, a fair amount of time had passed since he and Iridiel had finished breakfast and packed up their camp, only to meet the gray brute and then stick around a bit longer to recover themselves, and then meet with the little group and wait for Aemoten to recover and now deal with Angora... In other words, some time had passed since breakfast indeed. Lunch would be in order soon enough. They would still make it to Zerul City during this day all right, chances were. So ... the warrior fellow would probably agree with this further little delay. 
	Angora had reservations for discussing matters with this apparent leader of the group, though. Domhnall absently scratched his bearded cheek as he was trying to make sense of the statement ... and find a resolution of some description to it thusly. (Why was [i]he[/i] the one people seemed to look at for solutions, again?) Not in his good books... Well, Angora [i]had[/i] woken him from his much-needed slumber (the poor fellow looked about to fall from the saddle when they first saw him), she [i]had[/i] kicked his squire in the balls, and scratched up and probably broken the nose and a few ribs of his ... what exactly was she to him? Girlfriend? Wife? Something of the sorts. There was little mistaking how the guy looked at her, and she had sat by his side running fingers through his hair most of the time he was out of commission. 
	Yep. That [i]definitely[/i] summed up to "not exactly a favorable first impression". 
	But on the other hand ... they had to tell him [i]something,[/i] no? They could not just up and try to sneak off for an unnegotiated delay of unspecified duration with one of his companions after they had already agreed to group up for the remainder of the trek to Zerul City. No matter how bad the first impressions, [i]that[/i] would fly even less. No skipping facing the guy if they wanted to even have a [i]chance[/i] of getting Angora into the his "good books". 
	Iridiel - in a manner of seemed slightly conspiratory - suggested that Angora might have gotten her people mixed up. Had she? Worth trying to put his conclusions into words and pointing out the man once more, in any case...
	"He [i]did[/i] ask if ye were possessed or somethin'," he finally noted, dropping his hand to his lap. "Don' think he woul' bo'her tae ask if he were to blame ye fer everthin'. 'Sides, how woul' ye la'er explain us takin' off withou' a wor'?" If his beast would even permit them trying to leave ... he had been watching them all too intently all his time. Must have skipped Angora's attention, [i]somehow.[/i] And... Judging from the motion in the corner of his eye, they were a bit late to do that whole "sneaking off without the warrior fellow being informed" anyway, seeing as the man himself and his squire both had their eyes on them once more and were quite decidedly heading over. Speak of the devil...
	"Tha' woul' be him ... the one in the black coat," he finished somewhat sheepishly, pointing his thumb at the mentioned individual. This description, coupled with his gesture, should be unmistakable, at least ... the squire, in addition to being almost half a head shorter and looking barely over half Aemoten's age, was wearing a [i]brown[/i] leather cloak, as opposed to the warrior's long, black wool coat. 
	Much as it had been when he had first questioned the (still possessed) Angora, the warrior's face remained equal amounts of stern and weary as his eyes moved from Domhnall to Angora, "Yes?"