Laying her sword aside, Illinfer watched her companion. "You'll have already noticed the heat, you'll need to drink."  Her hand shook slightly as she reached for the fruit wine he had brought and poured it into two shallow clay cups. She drank in small sips, letting her gaze wander to the food he had brought. Although a lot looked unfamiliar the smells were appealing. Slowly she started to pick small bites from every dish, tasting them curiously. At first the spices overpowered her senses, followed by a hesitant acceptance and finally joy. With a bit of time she thought she could get used to it.

When Rhoynar spoke again she startled. She‘d forgotten his presence, entirely entranced in her curiosity and culinary experience. With wide eyes she looked at him, slowly chewing on a green fruit coated in oil that tasted salty and slightly bitter. 

"We should check the temple first, the monks there collect knowledge from far places most have never heard of. I've never seen their library but it is said to be stretching far into the sky, with walls of tomes that pass back in time beyond the Gods we know. If anyone is to know where we might find what Grey was asking of us, it's them." As he spoke her eyes were fixed on him. Having him close calmed her somewhat. She would never have imagined a journey into a foreign land would rattle her into such a frightened state. Indeed, she had seen the temple, looming, marvellous and imposing. Lost in thought she tilted her head slightly, eyes unfocused. Would she be deemed worthy to enter those halls? She‘d also noticed quite a difference between the clothes given to her by the guild and the garb those here seemed to favour. They should get the proper attire before trying to set foot into a holy place.

Illinfer barely heard the next words he spoke, but his laugh captured her, bringing her full attention back to the man in front of her. Instinct made her reach for him and grasp his wrist tightly. On the ship this had not felt real. It had not felt like the big change it was. She‘d been on ships before, even on the open sea. Never had she felt this uncertain, this lost. Not since her husband had died. The prick of loss and sadness came suddenly and threatened to overwhelm her. He‘d spoken of adventures like these, her Jurlath. Her grip grew tighter around Rhoynars wrist. „Forgive me....“ She whispered, her breath shallow as she was trying to gather herself, to not break down here in the strange place so far away from home and in the company of one she‘d sword to protect. A shudder went through her body as she quietly gasped, her lungs constricted. „... forgive... me...“ Illinfer slumped over the table, her hair spilling over her shoulders and hiding her expression, her breathing growing more laboured as the panic grew. Tears started to well in her eyes.

This was not happening. Not now. She wasn‘t alone, she couldn‘t afford this right now! Why?!

All the while the warrior was trying to gather her senses, her iron grip on Rhyonar did not loosen even when her body started to tremble.