[h3]Jaelnec, Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, Nabi, Yanin, Jordan and Madara – Bor Manor, Borstown[/h3]
Freagon met Irah's gaze both times she looked at him, but did not say anything. As far as he was concerned, things were going surprisingly well. Just the fact that the divine had decreased the concentration of divine energy was a victory from his perspective, and a necessary one at that; had that not happened, he would have started aggressively searching for and trying to destroy the divine by now. She was still talking an awful lot in his opinion, but it seemed as though things were less urgent now, which made it easier to tolerate.
Despite his satisfaction with how successful their efforts to pacify the divine seemed to be, Freagon kept his sword in hand. It was going well, but the divine seemed paranoid, angry... vengeful. He had a feeling that one wrong word could still set it off and necessitate battle, and without knowing the full context it was difficult to guess what might trigger its ire.

When Irah mentioned how they owed Feevesha's memory to fulfill her last wishes, the archangel's eyes hardened, its fingers curled into fists and its upper lip withdrew just slightly to show a hint of teeth. It was a clear expression of anger, to the point where the nightwalker raised his sword just a little and leaned forward a bit, putting his weight on his front foot, ready to rush to action. But then, when she went on to talk about how it would be an affront to Feevesha's life to return Caleb now, its eyes went wide, its mouth fell open and its expression turned to surprise.
Caleb held out his hands in front of him, palms upturned and fingers unfurled, and lowered his head to stare at them. It seemed transfixed by the sight, to the point where it seemed questionable whether it was even listening to what Irah was saying anymore.

Only once Irah finished speaking did the angel let his hands fall back down, where they hang limply by his sides. He raised his gaze to look at Irah, staring at her intently, almost as if trying to look into her very soul... only for his lips to part and show teeth again, but this time in a smile rather than a scowl.
And then he was gone. In the blink of an eye the archangel vanished, and with it both the strange haze that had hung over the room and the last vestiges of divine energy in the air also faded. Suddenly the room looked quite different from before, with the trail of blood that had lead to the door now being revealed to continue inside. There was blood all over the floor – a highly worrying amount of blood – going back and forth across the room several times, from the table to the bed and back again, and finally to the middle of the room, where a thin leather-bound book lay in a puddle of blood. By the bed – which was also lightly bloodstained and unmade – was an open backpack lying on its side, with various travel supplies scattered across the floor around it. By the table to their left a couple of chairs now seemed to have been knocked over, and on top of the table itself were a scattering of papers and writing utensils. These, too, were smeared with bloody handprints.
Despite all the blood, there were no bodies to be seen anywhere.

And tugged into the far corner to their left, the southeastern corner of the room, behind the table and relatively near the window, stood a figure that had not been there a moment ago. It was a tall, broad figure – taller than even Yanin – wrapped in a loose dark-gray garment not unlike a monk's robe, with sleeves so long that they hid the hands and a hood that almost hid its face, but not quite.
What took Freagon aback slightly was exactly the face. He had seen plenty of thalks – and this was indeed a thalk – but he had never seen one with a face like this one. Rather than the normal visage resembling that of a human skull, this one had a lower half that extended into something like a short animalistic muzzle, albeit still without lips and with the dagger-like teeth of a thalk, and each of its glowing green eyes was split by a vertical pupil.
Freagon's eye narrowed. [I]Is it... trying to look more like a Melenian?[/I]
“Very well,” the creature said, and though its appearance was different it still spoke in Caleb's voice, and still in True Words. “I hope we will not regret this, Deo'irah, but here I am, in the flesh I was given. No more illusions. At your mercy.”