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


Irah looked over the remaining combatants finishing up, her left eyebrow delicately arched as she paid the goings-on rapt attention. It was clear that the elder Nightwalker with his Sartal sword put all of them to shame, but he’d spent much of his time in precisely the same mode as her: appraising. Surveying. Learning the proverbial lay of the land. She knew full well when she was being tested: the weight of his expectation spoke volumes that his silence didn’t. She closed her eyes in response to his question, raising a hand towards the rest as she focused.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“There is one hostile divine left, yes. I sense from it bloodthirst, hate, rage–not like these Frentits, who were merely ‘having fun’.”[/b][/color] she spoke before turning to Jaelnec and offering him a gentle if slightly pitying smile–not that he’d have the vision to tell. [color=#d31c0a][b]“Let me help. Blessed Reina, may your mercy flow forth from your servant.”[/b][/color] she spoke, raising her hand to gently caress Jaelnec’s cheek before coming up towards his eyes (though she had to stand on the tips of her toes to do so). Kinder asked: [i]"That is quite a scar on his cheek... should I fix that, too?"[/i] as Irah asked for her assistance, and she pondered for a brief moment before answering.

[color=#d31c0a][i]“No, thank you. If he wishes for it to be healed, he will ask. I would not want to impose on his freedom of choice.”[/i][/color] she responded warmly, her thanks sincere but her conviction overpowering her desire to help.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“I am sorry, Jaelnec. Lhirinthyl did not think before invoking his magic; I will ask him to be more… thoughtful. Are you alright now?”[/b][/color] she asked, taking her hand back as she did so and turning away from him in an uncharacteristically bashful manner. Her tone was markedly more pointed as she mentioned Lhirin, but she knew full well that he’d not take notice of it. She turned then to Sir Yanin, moving to follow his lead (though hanging back and waiting outside the area of magical disruption) while the others assembled. She’d found herself very impressed with him: for one so young he understood clearly the importance of taking action, and taking efficient action. He was a very skilled combatant, too, but the edge of his sword would cut both ways. She made a mental note to be careful around him, though she suspected that what would frustrate him about her forbidden talents was not their nature, but their having been kept from him. She wondered if he was enlightened enough to understand that it was the way the tool was wielded, rather than the tool itself, that was important. She felt similarly about Freagon: she’d chosen her words very carefully, but in the absence of facial expressions to read about him she was, for once, almost entirely unsure about his thoughts and feelings. The others were not learned enough to understand the significance of the information that she’d provided and what it might reveal about her to the canny (except Lhirin, who already knew), but she suspected that Freagon might be. She knew from experience that those who were content to wait and observe typically did so from a position of advanced knowledge: what his was was the question on her mind.