The first response to Jericho's question was a quiet but drawn-out groan of pain as the blue-white Vouivre sitting on a chair in the corner grit her teeth and opened her eyes. She reached her hand out in front of her, staring for a moment at the black crystal lesion that now sprouted from its back before dropping it back down again and glancing up at the clock that sat on the left wall. 12:43, it said; her next session with Polka wasn't until 1:15. She had half an hour to burn, and it wasn't like she was doing much good sitting here trying to ignore the feeling of the crystals growing from her body. 

Rolling her neck as she always had, she sucked in a breath through a tight cage of teeth as a bone-deep ache shot through it. Right. Just another thing that she needed to stop doing as a result of her new...[i]situation.[/i]

"[color=paleturquoise]Mhmm,[/color]" she intoned softly, voice a touch husky from held back pain. She shook her head, cleared her throat, focused on the problem at hand instead of the pain of the growths. "[color=paleturquoise]Yes,[/color]" she tried again, this time louder and clearer, as she hauled herself to her feet. She wasn't really that tall from head to toe, but her relatively imposing horns added several inches, and made her look both taller and more threatening than she at all was.

From force of long habit she tapped a finger against the handle of the sword strapped to her back. Perhaps she didn't need it here in Hisn-ul-Zahra; but after the years, she only felt comfortable when it was with her, so she kept it strapped to her even during her sessions with Polka. And as usual [i]these[/i] days--the past few weeks--when she tapped the sword...

...Ah, there it was. The frigid wave rippled up her arm, even in the desert heat. Her...her Arts letting her know that they were still there, and did not much appreciate being contained and unused--she shook her head again like trying to clear cobwebs out, then reached up to rub the the temples at the base of her horns. Needed to calm down and talk like a normal person. Half an hour and then she could relax with Polka and relish the (relative) relief from symptoms that followed in the wake of her music.

"[color=paleturquoise]Yes, of course I'll help look.[/color]" The lilt of her Taran voice shook, but held. "[color=paleturquoise]It would be bad if--[/color]" Her constant low headache [i]pulsed[/i] and she [i]flinched[/i], reaching a hand up and pressing it to the side of her head briefly. Her symptoms were [i]bad[/i] today. "[color=paleturquoise][i]Nghh,[/i] sorry. It would be bad if he went off somewhere and we couldn't find him.[/color]" Left unsaid was a kind of guarded curiosity. She'd vaguely heard of operator Seven, but she hadn't been with Rhodes Island long enough to meet. Never let it be said that either Ash Girl or Aoife Eóganachta didn't like meeting new people; and this woman certainly looked interesting.