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

Jaelnec was in shock, that much Irah was certain of. The widened eyes, the racing pulse, the white-knuckled grip on his weapon… flinching at her touch was not something she had expected, but it gave her a good measure of what had happened. Healers were often thought to mend only [i]physical[/i] wounds, but Irah knew well that the worst wounds were those of the mind, and felt it her duty to treat those too–though the treatment was often little more than talking and time, generating a sense of safety that allowed people to confront their thoughts and feelings and move through them. Jaelnec would need time before he could talk, for the toll of taking a life was heavy indeed: even if those people were awful bigots, they were still people, and slaying them should not ever be easy on a person’s soul. She did not interrupt him at all as she fled, only turning to Jordan with a look of concern he’d almost certainly seen on his mother’s face before.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“Sweet Jaelnec… please stay by his side and keep him busy, Jordan, if Sirs Yanin and Freagon will allow it? He needs a camaraderie we cannot provide, until his mind settles. When we return to Borstown I will draw a hot bath for you; you’ve earned some rest… but for now the work is not over. The calm of succour is a harder draught to brew than battle’s heady high.”[/b][/color] She spoke softly, with a sad smile playing at the edges of her lips and eyes full of compassion. She gave him a brief nod before looking towards the construct that held Kinder’s essence.

[color=#d31c0a][i][b]“Thank you, my friend. Would you take a look at the prisoners and assess who might need immediate attention? They are awful people, but… perhaps they deserve better than this. Perhaps with their compliance we may yet save more. Could you ask Caleb to rejoin us?”[/b][/i][/color] Irah thought, projecting out her desire to communicate with Kinder and knowing that that would be enough. It was strange, to her, to use words with her dear friend–their communion was normally one of the soul, intimate and wordless, with exchanges of thought and feeling on a level that words could only clumsily approximate. Communicating wordlessly was not quite the same, but… it was the best Irah could do, the closest she could feel to normalcy.

She then proceeded to hurry back to the main group, able to hear Vela’s words in the distance enough to have picked up the gist of the conversation if not the specifics.

[color=#d31c0a][b]“As you see fit, Lady Bor. If they know better than to raid villages ‘willy-nilly’, as you say, then there is some higher purpose at work in conjunction with the opportunism that comes naturally to bandits. Bren will elucidate us more when he wakes. As for work… Lhirin and I would not leave you to defend yourselves against the coming onslaught–this battle may be won, but the war yet looms. Denied their prize they will come back, and we will have to be ready.”[/b][/color] Irah replied, her tone soft and determined. They could discuss the specifics back at the Manor and engage in idle chatter there–for now, little more needed to be said. The walk back through the forest would offer them ample opportunity to reflect on what had happened, and with clearer minds they could articulate themselves better. Irah had a brief moment of wondering whether she should offer her services as a necromancer to Lady Bor–getting the slain to dig their own graves was all they deserved, and it would do the living folk of Borstown good to not have to face the corpses of those who had stolen the lives of their loved ones… not to mention the fact that digging graves was difficult and laborious work, work that required food to fuel. She supposed they might well have extra food, with fewer mouths to feed, but that would be of no comfort to those who’d lost family members. Irah resolved to donate her earnings from the task to those grieving and lost if they needed it, though Vela seemed generous and compassionate enough that she would not see any of them suffer fiscally and she would not want to undermine that generosity with a reckless and unneeded gesture… nor was she in the habit of giving coin away unless it was in the service of saving lives.

She walked over to Lhirin’s side as she mused, turning her thoughts to what would happen with Caleb now that the task ahead of them was done. What he’d said to her earlier had struck her–about guile and its nature, and ultimately how silly of her it had been to try and use guile on a being whose very nature was deceit–and one despairing at the loss of his only friend, at that. She had meant everything she said, of course, but there was no way for him to know that–and even if there was, there was no way for him to trust that knowledge in the state he was in. This was certainly a mess they’d gotten themselves into… Rodoria had not been nearly this contentious the last time she was here. Perhaps that was why fate had steered her here, and saddled her with Sir Freagon as her only lead… her mind was cast back to her meeting with Mitai, and how he’d described fate. The future was shaped by their choices, and she would have to be careful to bring the future she desired into being–but for now, she had no better lead than the surly and laconic knight. Fate, it seemed, did have something of a sense of humour.