The reveal of information was relatively rapid from then on out–Sir Yanin’s diligent caution did not escape Deo’Irah’s attention, focused even on the most minute of details even now. He had certainly proven his keen intellect in her mind, though she suspected the scope of his piercing gaze might be its downfall–the price of his powerful grasp of the minutiae was a far more nebulous grasp of the wider abstract concepts at play. She made a mental note of it, and her mind turned to Jordan for the briefest of moments–that was likely his role in their partnership. He seemed… astute and unpretentious, able to avoid the common pitfall of more cerebral thinkers like his master (and indeed herself and Lhirin) thinking themselves into traps most people simply would never conceive of. Even in their movements, the flow of information and commands from the knight to his squire, there was something that naturally drew Irah’s attention. She shelved that observation for later too, focusing intently on the door that was about to be opened and the situation revealed.

She could already feel the divine energy too, offering a very quiet explanation of what precisely exposure to divine energy felt like–she was very curious as to why he was not able to feel it in the same way that they did: “You will only feel it; a prickling itch, then painful exhaustion until death. Do you not?”

Irah watched the scene around them unfold, her eyes narrowing in intensity as she attempted to emulate some of the granular attention to detail that Lhirin normally displayed, somewhat inspired by Sir Yanin, and focused on the details that mattered. In her periphery she could see Freagon’s movements, reaching into his coinpurse for… ah. Rodlin were pure silver. It was easy for her to forget, with her native currency of Kyrin being more crystalline and thus not interacting with energies in the same way that Rodlin did. Another display of aptitude from the mysterious Freagon. She continued her examinations while she awaited the inevitable result, listening out for the sound while her eyes were trained elsewhere.

The Archangel’s likeness seemed mostly to conflate with her understanding–snippets gleaned from stories, from books, from speaking with divines such as Kinder. She focused intently for a moment on the sword itself–she’d heard it described that the telekinetic ability of the Archangels functioned like an invisible hand, observable only through keen attention to the displacement of air currents about it. She attempted to discern any details regarding this that she could, and also observed the peculiar circle of fire and coursing bolts of lightning that it had chosen to display. The abilities, together, did not answer her earlier pondering over which deity this divine owed allegiance to. She then simply spoke to Kinder, keenly aware from earlier that while the senses she offered had detected the divines present it had also alerted them to hers. Indeed, Kinder had told her earlier that the divine they stood before now was attempting to hide--this flamboyant display smacked too much of a ruse, she thought, and then the ping of the Rodlin against the wall behind them chimed in too. She proceeded to commune with Kinder directly:

“Illusory, I am certain–what is your read? I am entirely uncertain to which deity it belongs, also..?” Irah began, wanting another form of confirmation before she gave Yanin the go-ahead to simply slay it where it stood. She could just imagine Lhirin reading a passage from the Deo’iel’s text reiterating that it is always safest to simply slay a divine where they stand for the sake of all living things around them. They would not perish, only return to the divine realms–it was now likely too late to save any who remained here, but even that could only truly be assessed once the threat was dealt with.

“I do not -” Kinder began, only for the archangel’s eyes to instantly shift their focus from Freagon to Irah. Though the being inside the room had appeared composed before, albeit defensive and indignant, that composure seemed to vanish as soon as it laid eyes on her, and its face twisted into a grimace of rage and hatred to match what Kinder had reported earlier.
“No!” Kinder exclaimed in a panicked tone. “Deo’irah, it is not -”
A strange sensation came over Irah at that moment; a wave of cold, like stepping through a curtain of water. It lasted only an instant before it abated… but when the chill vanished, the familiar stinging heat of Kinder had disappeared along with it.
“Hypocrites!” the archangel boomed furiously, clenching its fists and sending fingers of lightning out to caress the floor, walls and ceiling. “You hound summoners and divines mercilessly, come here to destroy me, and you bring your own angel slaves? Disgusting creatures!”

The sensation of Kinder being ripped from within her gripped her like a freezing curtain of ice, and shudders of distant recollections of a similar cold flooded her and steeled her focus. Something about the kindly nature with which she had generally held herself and presented dropped, and a spark of genuine and indignant fury sparked within her that she failed to contain.

“You dare accuse me of hypocrisy after ripping my friend and ally from me?! I have never enslaved another being!” she seethed, voice frigid with icy fury. “We act in concert to bring Reina’s mercy to this world, something her soul fundamentally longs for, and you have the gall to strip her of the means to achieve her desires after having had lives sacrificed to grant you yours?!” she continued to rant, having slipped immediately into her native Fermian without the composure to restructure her thoughts into Rodorian. She took a shaky breath in to steel herself, body feeling not… better, for Kinder’s absence, but no longer accumulating something making it worse from within as well.

The archangel scoffed at her, but gestured at Freagon. “You expect me to believe anything you say? This one comes here bearing a silver sword and declared that he would kill me, and even you said you would see me banished or slain. You mundanes are all the same. A conversation? What would that solve? You said it yourself: I do not belong here, and someone had to…” It paused for just a second, wincing. “To die for me to be here. Because of you!”

Deo’Irah took a moment to observe the divine’s reply, her world shrunk down to this interaction in an ironic twist of her earlier observations about the knight, noticing the wince and seeing it as the chink in its proverbial armour she needed to capitalise upon immediately. She allowed herself a moment of frenzied focus, allowing enough time to pass for her to consider the options available but not so much she might lose her opportunity–contingent upon the others, who’d surely made actions of their own during her outburst.