[center][h2][b][color=#d31c0a]Deo’Irah[/color][/b][/h2][/center]

Irah rolled her eyes at the Frentits making the apparent most of their last moments across the divide, their churlishness and spite pricking at her. Their idea of fun had cost so many their lives, and she felt both literally and figuratively sickened at their lack of regard. Her eyes darted over to Lhirin, ascending the stairs to deliver his payload, and at the ghoul waving its spear to prevent his passage. Her right index finger suddenly extended outwards and made a smooth trailing motion, and a tendril of water from her orb began to extend out rapidly towards the stairs where the temporary stalemate had taken place. The tendril whipped upwards, its tail detaching from the main orb as it did, and slivered through the air directly towards the ghoul’s metal armour. Simultaneously, the tail end would whip towards Lhirin’s runeblade, and the circuit would be completed. She idly wondered for a moment why he’d bothered to expend so much energy flashily executing the ghoul, but she quickly remembered the rug and remembered that it was entirely justified, no matter what anyone else said. 

Then, extending her magical senses once more (and asking Kinder to do the same), she focused more closely on the West where she’d felt the presence of the divine moving to. The most valuable thing she could provide in this moment was information, and though Lhirin’s mastery of arcane magic far exceeded her own, her necromantic training gave her the edge in observing things like this. It was evident the others–Nabi excluded–were far less magically inclined, and Nabi’s magic was somewhat perfunctory and practical. She would be best served priming them to succeed in their endeavours to come, and having seen Freagon, Yanin, and Jordan fight (in descending order of talent) she was cautiously optimistic about their chances. Almost unbidden, she couldn’t help but recall the story of Kahr’wai’iel–the Nameless Saint who’d summoned Thalks to save Jihni'mah'jehla'nai during the War of the Feathers–she would not relish the prospect of coming face-to-face with a Thalk whose aura had sufficiently developed, and nor would her compatriots.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“... I must stress that time is not on our side. We must be efficient if we are to save whoever remains.”[/b][/color] she said rather pointedly, indicating towards the west again. She gave Lhirin a quick appraising look before saying something to him in Fermian: [color=#d31c0a][b]“I think it is time you got [i]serious[/i].”[/b][/color]

The tone was not harsh, just direct--something that he usually appreciated. He would know what she meant when she said it: be alert, be proactive, be efficient. Once she had a better idea of what they were truly facing--the assumption wasn't enough for them to make plans around--she knew that he'd have snapped into proper focus anyway. Given the live(s) at stake, Irah thought a little nudge necessary, and quickly whispered a prayer to Reina as she waited for the events to resolve: 
[color=#d31c0a][i]"Reina grant us your mercy, that we are not too late."[/i][/color]