“U-Uriel,” Naya parrots back, committing the name to memory. Her tongue is a bit clumsy from the effects of the painkilling brew Dr. Clayburn had administered earlier, but she pronounces it well enough to avoid further embarrassment. “Whose orders are you following?” The witch asks curiously, tilting her head to the side and studying the creature more closely.

Her gut feeling still said he was probably a demon, but she found his lack of wings to be most peculiar. Was he born without them or did they have to be amputated for some reason? She takes another step closer, standing on her tiptoes to try and see into his helmet again. “Do you have eyes in there, friend?” She asks, soprano voice colored by curiosity. Did he use magic to see things?

It's at this moment it dawns on Naya that she is out of breath, and when she glances down she sees that she has begun to sway a bit. It seems she has exerted herself more than her still recovering body could handle. The brunette had to hand it to the doctor though, his tea might have tasted like garbage but its numbing effects were impressive. “I think you might need to carry me,” she admits sheepishly, her cheeks going pink as she shifts her attention to study the polished floorboards beneath her worn out boots. “Just give me a moment, alright?”

She turns her back to him and opens the sheet, re-adjusting it so it is now wrapped tightly around her chest in some sort of makeshift dress. Naya pauses to glance down at her now exposed shoulders, frowning at the bandages that wrapped around her left side. She didn't even remember getting hit there. That wraith really did a number on her. But while the witch was still very much miffed at Livia for the killing of Skellington, she couldn't find it in herself to be very angry about the ice spikes. After all, the specter had just been ordered to stand by as her brother was killed right before her eyes, it was understandable that the other woman might be a little blinded with rage.

Still, she'd rather not run into the wraith any time soon, thank you very much.

“Alright,” Naya says hesitantly, turning back around to face Uriel. “Ready when you are. Do you need me to stand a certain way or…?” She trails of, rubbing at her bandaged arm as she tried to figure out a way to make carrying her easier on him.

Suddenly, Naya realizes she can't see her satchel anywhere by him. “Did you get my bag?” The witch asks quickly, trying to stomp down the first tendrils of panic that worm their way into her mind. “Or m-my grimoire?”

[@Polaris North] ((Uriel))