Raelynn could feel it in her body that the spell was waning, the expulsion of her familiar always gave her a slight sting in the chest. It was such a part of her own soul, she assumed, and tied so closely to her flow of magicka. Of course she would feel it. She squeezed on Markus’s hand when it happened, it was just the two of them now.

While he took care of the guard, she had made her way to a cloak stand, taking from it some kind of weathered tunic. It wasn’t hempen and scratchy, and the sleeves were long and warm. It felt at least soft, and while Markus’s back was turned she slipped into it with ease, feeling relief on her skin as she did so. Now, now she just looked like a guard on her first day of work... An innapropriate laugh escaped her lips as she joined Markus back at his side.

The Breton was grateful, however, that the tunic didn’t allow her too much safety from the cold - because the breeze of fresh air that greeted her at the open door was splendid, she gasped and allowed herself less than five seconds to inhale and taste it. “So let’s fly then, Markus,” she said with a genuine grin that held warmth and gratitude in equal measure. 

Then, it was Raelynn who led the way.

The blonde reached for Markus’s hand and she grasped at it, running out in the darkest, safest direction so that they could make it to the wall, and make it as soon as possible.