At first the knight remained motionless, apparently insentient for the little princess's ministrations, the flies swatted away by her hands buzzing incessantly. So up-close, Leanja could have deciphered more of the armored frame's gore-caked form, the metal just barely peeking out from beneath layer upon layer of grime mixed with dried lifefluid. To the untrained eye the metal certainly appeared mundane, yet so set upon the imposing form, massive compared to the child even while seated, it did not allow for something as lacking a description as the word 'simple'. This steel-wrought work, seemingly covering the knight's each and every part with perfectly-interlocked plates, struck an uncanny balance between heftiness and flexibility, strangely-eerie even if it had been viewed without the horrid dressings of blood, dirt and flies.

Several seconds passed, the loathsome insects droning and whirring about, maneuvering around the princess and eachother, the knight giving no hint of having even registered Leanja's arrival. Then, with the dry cracking of withered grime-crust, the helmeted head slowly, sluggishly rose, iron-gaze indolently wandering up to meet the curious eyes of the little princess before him. Had she dared to try and peek into the dark confines of the visored helm, Leanja would have seen a pair of unblinking, bloodshot eyes staring back, pupils ill-defined beneath a feverish sheen.

But she could see, for just a moment, something the child might later liken to a glimmer of hope.

More parched creakings were emitted as the knight's arm rose. Specks and chips of dried matter flaked off the plated limb as the decrepit frame seemingly made to grasp at the princess with a slow, easily-avoidable motion, the knight's iron-coated fingers stretching out leadenly towards her face. Had Leanja kept her childish nerve, the motion of the decrepit frame would have halted just inches from her features, talon-like digits of the right hand hovering before her countenance for several seconds.

"You..." the voice coming from the helmet was hoarse, an ugly croaking befitting the delapidated figure "... are not She."

The claw-like hand wavering before the princess's delicate features lost all strength, the arm falling back to the knight's side with sullen lack of care. The anticipation faded from the inflamed eyes, the helm dipped once again. 

"Water... not needed. My Lady... should come, soon..."

The knight's voice trailed off, giving way to the persistent buzzing of flies seeking their fill of filth.

"Young lady..." the putrid errant's tone came hesitantly "... have you seen... my Lady? Is she... near?" a pleading note all too evident.