As she observed the refugees, Kire could tell she wasn’t welcome, whether or not they recognized her face. The haunted look was familiar; she had seen the same on her own family, on her people, even on herself. Even without her armor, the sword at her hip probably didn’t help. Kire sighed; sad as it was, this was more logical to her that Envy’s leap of faith, and their wariness of strangers might serve them better. [i]Maybe I could find a way to help them later.[/i] 

Ysaryn, though, was a bright spot amid the somber group, though Kire’s nose twitched at the smell wafting from whatever it was she was holding. She smirked at the greeting, shaking her head a little at the teasing. “Heh. ‘Sleeping beauty’ would’ve liked to sleep off the whole day if she could. Good morni—uh, afternoon, Ysaryn.” She sat opposite the woman, aware of the looks cast her way. “They don’t like my face so much around here, I’m afraid,” she remarked, apologetic for any attention or frightened behavior her presence elicited. “So. I am—from very, very far away and know precious little about anything around here. What do you call your people? Envy is Kartaian, you are different, but a little similar.” She paused to drink from her waterskin. “And the man with you. Are you related?”