[h3]Domhnall and Angora[/h3]
	
	It appeared that the young black-eyes was not particularly opinionated on the matter, Domhnall had to conclude. Either that, or he decided to keep his opinions to himself. Whatever the case, the current leader's placeholder grudgingly resigned to accepting Angora's revelations with just a single word, [i]fine[/i]. Huh. The forestfolk's eyes flitted from Jaelnec to Angora. 
	It... wasn't the response she was expecting from the man who had so vehemently been crusading against her way of life. Angora smiled - at least he was no longer hell-bent on demanding that she turn her life away from the Firm overnight. Such a thing was simply not possible, not to mention she might have a visit from a Con or two over her defection away from the Firm... or even her father. Erik was a Captain-Junior in the Dramburgh family - a family that was built on the Cleaners... Erik himself was a rarity - an outsider who attained high status in a family despite lacking their name. The Kelenwyn group was not a large one, but they were efficient. Angora doubted that even she would escape with her life. Admittedly, the man had a point - her hands were soaked in the blood of those she had killed, though perhaps he and others like him didn't quite realise what a Cleaner did. No matter.
	Angora returned her attentions to her clothes. They were still damp - not to mention freezing cold - but they could probably ill-afford to spend too much longer sitting in front of a fire. Next to the green and brown man, his companion with the shock of red hair and blue lips slowly came to from her nap. Perhaps a subtle clue from the gods, Angora thought to herself, giggling quietly. The Black Sword's glow had ebbed away to a dull smoulder from the bright fiery runes that had been showing earlier. Angora turned the blade over in her hands several times... it was warm, very warm to the touch. She laid the blade on her clothes.
	[i]“I suppose it isn’t important in the end, you know?”[/i] Olan piped up. [i]“The Withering doesn’t care who you are or what you do. And that’s our objective, right? Getting rid of the Withering?”[/i] Though somewhat surprised, the young black-eyes seemed to agree. That was right, this was their mission... The group's, and now theirs by extension. Iridiel had said her goddess instructed them to join the group on their quest ... or something of the sorts. The gist was what was important here. [i]Healer first and foremost...[/i] Seemed like the sort of thing that would fit the bill quite nicely, in any case. Speaking of Iridiel, she was certainly beginning to stir now. 
	"Yeah... the Withering." Angora's face fell. So that was their mission was it? To cure the Withering, the greatest plague that the mortal world had ever seen? [i]Wonderful.[/i] "Funny thing, isn't it, disease? From King to common folk, you're just as vulnerable. Makes you wonder, doesn't it - what truly makes a King so worthy of respect and obedience, when they're just as soft and fleshy and mortal as the rest of us?" Angora shrugged and went back to poking at her clothes. Iridiel - at least Angora thought that was her name - seemed to have woken up fully by now, though she was still yawning her head off and murmuring something in her native language to her companion. Were they a couple? Or were they just very good friends? Angora didn't know, nor did she really think it was her place to know. They were foreigners, they could have banned marriage for all she knew... She looked around at everybody. Perhaps she could let the clothes dry on her body, using her natural heat...
	"I should probably get dressed."
	"Ya do that," figured Domhnall. The clothes were probably still damp, but then again, she could also just move herself closer to the flames... Probably had a lower risk of setting the clothes on fire than just moving the clothes by themselves even closer to the fire. 
	[i]What really separated a king from the common man...[/i] Some agreement made by the majority? The woman was quite right as far as Domhnall was concerned. King, peasant, at the end of the day they were just all people. Did not mean one was more correct than the other, or that the majority was necessarily right, or fair. Iridiel was only here because someone decided that [i]her[/i] intentions did not matter, after all...
	[i]"Good morning,"[/i] he noted to Iridiel, who had now lifted her head from his shoulder. He kept his arm around her for the time being, though; the warmth was nice, and he'd been sitting still for a while... 
	[i]"Hmmmh... morning, still? I can't have slept for long I suppose..."[/i] Iridiel yawned and gently placed her head back on Domhnall's shoulder, pressing herself into his chest slightly. The warmth was most definitely welcome ... and Iridiel watched as Angora was going to find that out the hard way.
	Angora got to her feet, cursing quietly as she took hold of her clothes from by the fire and moved them away from the odd spark or two, before snatching them up in her hand and allowing the cloak to fall from around her shoulders, heedless of what the others might think of her naked form on show to them all. Shit, that's cold! Instinctively she drew her hands about her breasts, shivering from the chill wind biting at her flesh, but she forced herself to forget about the chill for the moment in exchange for donning her clothes - though she wondered quite how well they'd actually protect her, given their poor state of maintenance. She swore repeatedly as she dressed herself as hastily as she could, though true to what she thought... it wasn't much good. The rips and holes combined with the damp clothing to render her perhaps even fucking colder than before! At least she could rely on the cloak to keep her warm- the cloak that was on the floor in the mud.
	At last, her temper perhaps snapped once and for all. "Fuck it all!" In her anger, Angora aimed a kick at the fire, which missed, thanks to her still-foggy state of mind, and perhaps the side effects of having been kicked in the face several times. She fell to the floor, lying there thoroughly upset, embarrassed and exhausted.
	Evidently still drowsy, Iridiel took his comment as an invitation to snuggle closer to him (not that he had anything against it), whereas Angora, from what he knew, quite uncharacteristically to Rodorians, opted to just change her clothes in the full sight of them all. It might have been that living in the forests under the influence of some critter that did not care at all for the common manners of its host for ten months or so had slightly dampened her sense of privacy... If Domhnall had any further thoughts on the matter, he did not seem to show them, and instead seemed to be trying to figure out whether he could reach one of the nearby logs to toss it to the flames and not move himself while he was at it. 
	All was fine and good until Angora decided to ... kick their campfire? Whatever her intent, she missed her target and fell flat on her back, eliciting an instinctive jerk from Domhnall's free hand and shoulder before he caught up with the fact that there was little way for him to do much unless he removed Iridiel from himself and got up. For a moment he paused, looking at Iridiel, then back at Angora, then at the two black-eyes. Assuming that one of them had not moved already (or, in Jaelnec's case, made himself sink underground), he lifted his eyebrows at them. [i]Well? Are you just going to sit there with your hands free?[/i]