[i][h2][color=MediumSeaGreen]Lora Kadar[/color][/h2]
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Lora’s eyes flitted between the man, Wanderer, and Cyril as they received the news. It seemed to confirm something for Cyril, who watched as the Wanderer passed through panic and fear and into begrudging acceptance. He spoke, keeping up his odd insistence of referring to himself with impersonal pronouns, distilling any remaining doubts about what she had seen yesterday. She wasn’t surprised at his statement, expecting nothing less from the way they had all but evaporated after the fight. She turned back to the Prince as he processed this and turned it to his liking. And then he extended his earlier offer to them as well, except where hers had been a soft offer theirs was a firm order.

The man did not like this possible outcome of events, but reason wasn’t far off and he agreed. Cyril looked pleased and turned away, done with his convincing and on to attending the rest of the group. He turned his Sentinel away and moved onto their new companions, comforting the Wanderer, but perhaps just depressing him. He didn’t care for long, moving on to the newest man—Drosil.

She turned back to look at the scene in front of them, the woman yelling about the species of the Deathcrawler and then turning her sights on her companion. Her ears turned towards the Prince and Drosil despite her watching the one-sided fight, the soft tone drawing her interest. The sound paused, and she glanced over to the two men on instinct. Drosil was staring at her with a look in his eyes she’d rather not describe, much less ever see again. Discomfort slid a cold hand down her back and she glared her best at him, nose flared and teeth peeking, but he was too busy picking her apart to note the intense distrust she was sending his way. After far too long he turned away, but she did not. She watched him move back to the Prince and take his time continuing, her eyes narrowed. If his small but far too long actions towards her weren’t enough for her to find dissatisfaction, his manners toward the Prince certainly were. She wasn’t close but her hearing was unfortunately expert, and honed in on his words. He mentioned the man from earlier that was no longer here—were they connected in some sort? 

And then—Puppy love? [i]Puppy love?[/i] Lora hadn’t had puppy love about anything since Pax had grown from a foal and the insinuation that the rest of them had reacted with less enthusiasm than her was frankly—in her modest opinion—conducive to treason. He was the Prince for Ambrosia’s sake! Was she supposed to be as grumpy as the rest of this lot? What did it matter if his voice was velvet and his eyes belligerently brilliant, the rest of them should have been just as pleased as her to share his company!

The man continued with a rather insensitive comparison (she was a nonhuman, not a Deathcrawler) and Lora had had enough. Turning sharply and removing the man far from her mind, she caught up to the Wanderer’s near-death experience. She hesitated for a moment, perhaps now wasn’t the best time, but continued. It might be the only time, if the woman got her way. Anyway, she was all too familiar to tiffs between friends being solved with a little fighting. “Thank you—“ Lora interjected between the woman’s screams and the Wanderer’s sputters and gasps. She rushed her words, sure the woman would cut her off if she gave her the chance. “I’m sure you don’t care to hear it but I really mean it, and I’ll follow you two around until you let me get it out. What you two did was extraordinary and I’m very glad and grateful that you did it, whatever your reasons or humbleness.” She grinned brilliantly, nodding. “Thank you.”