Kire was quiet, thoughtful as Ysaryn spoke. Her words were oddly comforting; though the elf couldn’t have known about what had happened that had led Kire’s path here, hearing those words from her felt like a vindication that she was on the right path. That she wasn’t just throwing herself at danger to punish herself, as her cousins believed. [i]Purpose.[/i] Kire wanted to feel that again, beyond her deep well of anger that fueled her drive for vengeance. 

She watched the elf inspect the venison, listening to her appraisal of Rulitus. Her opinion of the man made sense, and Kire’s mind drifted back to that first encounter she had, when she sensed that aura from him. It wasn’t just the disappearing trick, and Ysaryn confirmed it. Kire nodded at her. “Perfect sense. I’ve known people like that. And he—he’s a lot—[i]broken[/i], it seems. I’m still shocked he decided to help me at all. But I’ll take whatever help I could get.” She tore off a small piece and chewed on it. “It doesn’t hurt to be cautious, though. I’ve been stabbed in the back too often.” 

Then Kire paused, looking up at her. “’Magic like mine’?” She smirked. “I suppose that’s what the wards are for? Not just to let you know someone’s at the door? Or did something else tip you off?”