Relief washed over the elf's face as she readily agreed, looking like a weight was pulled off his shoulders. Someone who could travel in daylight, move distances on her own, and carry more than meager amounts. It didn't matter to him what she brought, it would help. "I'll talk to the others. See if they know where to locate what we need. Ysaryn's people should have the majority of it, but there are items Ruli may need to hunt for for his enchantments. Give me an hour to speak to them, and I'll give you a better estimate."

He went after Ysaryn first. She wasn't hard to find, with her and Bolym arguing about her impending trip with a sour-faced man with long black hair. Bolym insisted on following the two, and the man refused, insisting that he didn't trust the bastard not to cut his throat. Ysaryn, loudly promising she'd cut his throat first, at the very least demanded her body guard remain. She snarled at Envy when he interrupted, for which the man snapped at her, and the fight went on in circles. 

He circled around until Aeron brought him Ruli, freshly bathed and looking quiet tired. Envy relayed Kire's desires for a new face, and the blond fell into silent thought for a moment before he found a quill and paper and jotted down what he would need from the pink-haired elf, then made a second for himself, staring at it in wonder about where he would get anything. He only knew Ziad. And everything in Ziad was buried in the cisterns. 
"Risa is here." Envy informed him gently. 
"Bullshit." Ruli responded, looking up. Envy frowned in response. "I bet she is an absolute joy to have out here. She the only one?" A nod from the Kartaian. Ruli grunted. "Well. Maybe I can tolerate a conversation with her to see if she has ideas."
"A 'conversation'?" Envy asked. 
"Yes." Ruli said shortly, shoving the list in Envy's hand. "That's all."

Envy gave the list from Ruli to Ysaryn, and she left with her party of two, leaving a foul-mouthed Bolym to stalk outside to hunt in the hopes of deflating his ire. 

Not long after he was taken to 'Little Ziad', which was nothing more than a hodge-podge of tents, blankets, and pathetic hunts of branches some ten minute walk from the cave, Ruli fell asleep, dozing for the majority of the afternoon and well into the night. Months of sleeping through the day would be a difficult schedule to break. He woke in the dead of night, his insect bites itching less. He went back to the stream and washed his clothes and skin again, then went hunting again. Returning to the kitchen revealed several hanging fowl, types he couldn't identify. They were defeathered, rubbed in a few herbs he knew, and hanging over the hearth to slowly cook, their grease making the chamber smell good enough to send a sharp pain through his stomach. He'd never eaten. It'd been nearly two days. 
Taking a small portion of the cured venison, he continued on.

He found Kire on accident the following afternoon, in the kitchen muttering to herself like the mad-woman he was sure she was. He grunted at her. "So you're the one who's been doing all this." He commented tiredly. The bruise on his throat was fading, his voice much recovered. He'd traded up, apparently, as he now sported a vicious bruise to his left cheek and eye. Not too recent, as the small gash that accompanied it had clotted and scabbed. Struggling to stay awake, he'd decided to go back to the tent-village to see what he could do, deciding very much that he wanted to avoid the caves, and the person who had punched him.

His eyes were red as he looked her over. "What sort of face do you want?" He asked bluntly, far too drained for small talk.