RP:Shadows Have More To Say

Part of the The Whisperer In Darkness Arc

Summary: Khitti and Encara share another quiet moment in the drow's secluded quarters, where secrets of the past are divulged, present fears about the plague spreading through Venturil are given voice, and Encara finally reveals her scarred hand and the desperate quest to track down a cure. Khitti also asks an important question of her - would Encara join the Paladins Guild as its Delishan representative? While the ranger expresses doubts over whether or not she's personally suited to the position, she promises to take some time to think about it.

Fort Frostmaw

Walking a cow-sized white spider through Frostmaw should’ve been easy enough -- except Francis wanted to inspect -everything-. Khitti surely wished now that she’d taken his leash with her, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. “Francis! Leave that poor cat alone. You cannot sniff all the butts you come across. That’s rude and you’re not technically a dog.” Could spiders even sniff butts? Didn’t matter. Clearly, when the spider was growing up, several wires in his brain got crossed and he seriously though he was, in fact, a spider-doggo. Maybe he was raised by wolves in the Shadow Plane. Most that she wandered past in the town had to do a double take, as did the guards as Khitti wandered into the fort and asked for directions to where Encara was staying, because -usually- you didn’t see spiders around here; those were usually reserved for Vailkrin and this was clearly not a Vailkrin spider. “You be good and maybe you can meet a new friend instead of having to stay outside,” the redhead said to her dear spider-son. The rather large Huntsman-esque arachnid wiggled his bulbous spider butt, let out some happy blurbles, and kept to Khitti’s side. Hopefully Cara liked spiders. That was a thing drow liked, right? Khitti’d read about some of the drow in the past, back when Lionel first came here -- those ones even worshipped a spider goddess long before Tiphareth changed the way of things in Trist’oth and shifted the religion to that of Vakmathras. Onward they continued, til they came to a door, a door that Khitti soon knocked on. “Encara…?”

Encara is not used to visitors. Sure, every guard in the fort knows where the wayward drow holes herself up at night, and they probably keep a good, suspicious eye on the place, but that doesn't mean they come knocking. Her mind races a mile a minute at the first knock - the instinctive response is to expect attack and jerk to her feet but the second possibility that comes to mind is more hopeful. More foolish. Khitti's voice pops that thought and her hope dies like a deflating balloon. Crossing the room quickly, shaking her head as she goes and pulling her hair back into a messy chignon, the drow has artfully disguised her disappointment by the time she opens the door— and finds ten whole eyes staring back at her. "Khitt— um. Wow." The enormous arachnid wiggling around at the redhead's side gets an owlish blink, for creatures of this size are a rarity even to the drow. "I… I don't think he's going to fit in here…" There's an almost sheepish edge to her voice as she takes a step back, allowing Khitti entry and a glimpse into the room behind her. Through no fault of Lionel's, the quarters assigned to Encara are, in truth, little more than a glorified storage closet. Her humble room is tucked in a secluded corner of Fort Frostmaw, far from any place where the drow's presence might be unwelcome. On one side of her nondescript door lies a wine storage equipped with a good stock of elven brews; on the other, a cupboard stuffed full of old books that Encara suspects is likely bigger than her own sleeping quarters. Size isn't what matters though - the fact she has her own space is enough for Encara and the cramped, dingy room suits her just fine. It's like the Underdark, like being enclosed in the most dangerous womb of the earth with a thousand tons of rock overhead. It's like home. The lack of a window leaves the narrow room perpetually draped in shadow, and the walls and floor are bare logs and boards, enveloping the space with the thickly rustic scent of aged timber and dust. Over Encara's shoulder, a single lamp flickers dimly, its weak flame staving off total darkness. "Hi…" Cara's dressed casually - in little more than a loose blue poets shirt and black pants, she's not exactly her usual intimidating sight. The gauntlet remains, though, starkly at odds with the rest of her attire and her sleep-softened expression. Her gaze shifts to the spider again, a faint smile creasing the corners of her mouth. "Who's this, then?"

Khitti tilted her head at Encara’s reaction, doing her best to hide her amusement. “This is Francis. He’s from the Shadow Plane. He’s, uh, my spider son. Sort of. He’s adopted.” Obviously. “One of the abilities I used to have was to call him--and eventually his children--through a portal, until I lost that magic anyway… Thankfully, he was over here when it happened.” She took a step into the room and peered about. The darkness didn’t bother her and she didn’t say anything about it--in fact, she felt rather at home herself. “He likes ceilings, if that’s alri--.” Khitti nearly finished her thought, but the Mother (and Grandmother) of Spiders was soon trampled by Francis as he made way into the room and immediately leaped up to the ceiling, making himself small (as small as he possibly could) in one of the corners that was darkest. The templar let out a noise that was almost like a death rattle, but she soon managed to push herself up off the floor and gave Francis a very motherly look, as if to say ‘behave’. With a few coughs to get much needed air back into her lungs, Khitti’s demeanor shifted somewhat, the emotion on her face not quite clear. Was she nervous? Was she upset about something? One couldn’t be sure. “I, uh… wanted to ask you something… and maybe talk to you about something else, if you had the time.”

"Do all Shadow Plane creatures grow so large…?" Encara muses, more to herself than anyone else, before her smile broadens into something more solid and genuine. "It's a pleasure, Francis. You're not the first giant spider I've met." The words leave her almost in a sigh and for a moment she looks faintly lost. Where is Khova now? Since the trip to Larket and his subsequent disappearance, Encara has heard nothing of the drider - she tells herself she'll try and find him when things have calmed down a little, but she's not certain how that reunion might play out. It gnaws at her, though. In the meantime, Khitti and Francis have made their way inside with a small scuffle and Encara masks her amusement by closing the door behind the pair, shutting out the light filtering in from the fort's hallway. Though the lamp's solitary flame is dim, it manages to illuminate the entirety of the drow's cramped quarters - most of the space is filled with crates and boxes, while the only real pieces of furniture are a small vanity cabinet with a wash bowl on top and a bed piled with warm blankets that lies tucked against the back wall, farthest from the door. Encara's personal touches are few, the most intriguing being the triangular sigils slashing in black paint over the walls; four altogether, one for each wall and the last scrawled above the door, they're likely protection charms. All else of note is the small Delishan altar set up on the top of a crate. A simple thing, it consists only of a statuette of the Dark Mother carved from obsidian, a stick of unlit incense, and a scattering of small bits of bone, crystal, and jewellery. "I'm used to it," Encara answers Khitti with a smirk and a pointed glance up to the spot on the ceiling where Francis has made himself comfortable. The smile falls off her face when the redhead coughs, the drow tilting her head before making her way across to the bed. She takes up a perch on the edge of it, one leg crossed over the other. "I have time," she says simply.

Khitti frowned at the lost disposition that overtook Encara as she spoke of knowing another spider and the sigh that followed the mention of them. Her gaze lingered on the drow for a time, the wheels in her head turning as booted feet brought the redhead to the altar, her olive-green line of sight eyeing it curiously. “I guess, first of all, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to join the guild. You certainly don’t have to and I can respect your reasonings--the fact that you were hurt, even just a little bit, by my sword’s magic and Zahrani’s didn’t go entirely unnoticed. I dealt with the same thing as a vampire too, so I’d be wary about being around any of us. But--” Khitti leaned over to smell the incense stick, seemed pleased with the scent and then turned around to face the drow with her hands in front of her. They fidgeted a bit, and she tried so hard to hide that fact, but her attempts were in vain. “--having someone like you there, would be beneficial, I think. Because with it being called the Paladin’s Guild, everyone seems to think that it solely includes just paladins--just those that worships the light. There’s good in the dark too, and even though I’ve really not known you that long, I know it’s in you too.” She let out a sigh of her own finally, “I’d like you to be a representative of Delisha in the guild. I know what goes on with dark magic. I know the sacrifices that are made in the name of both Delisha and Vakmathras. But I also know that it’s not always for ill things, like what’s going on in Venturil. Hell, Queen Hildegarde and the high priestess Leone just made a sacrifice of their own blood to call Aramoth. We each have our own ways of connecting with our chosen gods and that’s our freedom to do so, so long as innocents aren’t harmed while doing it.” Khitti finally pulled her hands apart and shrugged, “But, the decision is entirely up to you and as I said, I’ll respect whatever you choose.”

Encara sits patiently while Khitti inspects her altar and begins to explain the reason behind her visit, and perhaps the cause of her nervousness too. The drow's leonine eyes almost seem to glow in the half-light, but her expression remains infuriatingly neutral, unreadable, while Khitti speaks - it's only when the redhead falls silent that her brows finally furrow in a soft frown. This is unexpected. Encara is happy to work alongside paladins if the situation requires it and they won't immediately turn on her, but officially joining the ranks of the guild is another can of worms altogether. Her bemusement is clear in the short silence that follows the tail end of Khitti's words. Eventually, she sighs. "Your reasons are valid. It'd be good for the guild to have representatives of darker gods and I'm honoured you sought me out for this… but I am not certain I'm the person you're looking for." A hand lifts to rub absently at the side of her neck, a subtle indication of hesitance. "I have killed innocent people before, Khitti, and not all of them were for Delisha. I would not be foolish enough to promise you I won't do it again— should I deem it a necessary evil. I think it's only fair I tell you this so you can reconsider your offer." With a weary sound the drow falls back to lie among her blankets, long legs dangling over the side of the bed. "Drow live to kill," she says quietly. "It is our way. With these endless plots we weave, always seeking to tangle our enemies in a net they cannot escape, we find our purpose. This is how I was raised. It's who I am, even if we all try to pretend I'm not like the rest of my kin. That won't change." In the end, she's still a wolf in sheep's clothing… but she can't help the guilt that coils in her when she wonders if she's managed to fool Khitti, Lionel, Meri — everyone — into believing otherwise.

Khitti tilted her head as she watched Encara explain her side of things and flop back onto the bed. “You’re not the only one that’s killed someone, Encara.” She took a seat on the floor with her back up against the crate that the altar was on, pulling her legs up under the skirt of her thick, woolen dress. “I sacrificed my own sister to regain my humanity. I killed mermaids and took their scales for the cure--all except for the one that’d save me after I was reborn. I ripped the heart out of the umbrawisp that I was bonded to since I was fourteen, after she was returned to her own body. Brand, and Meri, and Lionel have had to stop me, kept me from losing all of my humanity as a vampire. I have killed so many, whether they were innocent or not--sometimes that doesn’t even matter. And I know how drow work. Gevurah even told me, once upon a time, that I’d make a good one. I took all of that into consideration before coming here. No one is solely free of sin and I don’t care about that.” She chuckled a little, “I’m even going to be marrying someone that was an assassin for the majority of his life.” Spilling Brand’s secrets was not a thing Khitti always did; his past was his own and she tried to keep it that way. “But… I will not force you to do this and the offer will remain open, should you ever change your mind.” Her attention shifted towards Francis, who in turn gifted his mother with a soft blurble. “I am not a good person, Encara. That is why I chose the path of a templar instead a paladin. It allows me to stay within that grey area where I’ve always been, and since I’ve yet to be struck down by Cyris’ judgement and Tenbatsu Kaji still remains with me, I think Cyris gets it too.”

Encara is half-expecting her stubbornness to be met with calm coercion and the promise that of course she can change, and that she must. She's surprised, but relieved, to hear otherwise. Khitti's understanding is a balm to her worries, though the drow almost flinches upon hearing of what the redhead did to her own sister - her thoughts turn briefly to her twin, Mithras'endil, and the reply she still waits for. It isn't like him to take this long to write back. Pushing herself upright after a thoughtful pause, Encara slides off the end of the bed to join Khitti on the bare floorboards, tucking her legs under her. "There are people out there — like the cultists who plague Venturil — who take things too far. It only gives everyone else a sour impression of these gods, though I suppose they don't care about that. But I do." Her scarlet gaze lifts to meet Khitti's, momentarily, before shifting higher to land upon the altar, and her voice is distant as she continues, "My family is… strange, but I don't regret or despise that I was raised to the teachings of the Dark Mother. I don't believe Delisha is an evil god. She weaves the fates in an infinitely complex web many noble drow try to recreate, and everything that happens is for a reason. Nature is not evil because a rainstorm ruins your day." She shakes her head, tucks a stray strand of hair back behind a pointed ear. "Give me some time to think about it before I give you a concrete answer."

Khitti nodded in agreement, “I don’t think Delisha is either, nor Vakmathras. Magic always comes with a price, especially something like a vampirism cure, and I knew that going into it. It’s the same for anyone that would ask things of the gods. It’s what you do with it that makes it evil or not. There are others perhaps, like the followers of Arkhen, that may not think so, but the fact that his magic worked together with both Delisha’s and Vakmathras’ tell me that those followers are not looking at the bigger picture. And this decision of yours is perfectly fine. I almost expected a “No. Get the hell out and never come back.” sort of reaction, heh. It makes me grateful that you understand where I’m coming from… which leads me into the next thing I wanted to bring up.” She propped her elbows up on her knees, eyeing the length of her arms. Beneath the sleeves of her dress, as well as the entirely of her attire, lay scars innumerable--her recent realization of what befell her in Aedrebyrg bringing memories of years past to the forefront, “I think… the master that that greydusk was speaking of… is a mind flayer.” Sigh. “I couldn’t be sure then, but the taste of that blood was so familiar and I only recently realized why. When I was experimented on, and fused with Amarrah--the umbrawisp I mentioned a little bit ago--a mind flayer was in charge, hellbent on bringing prophecies from the Shadow Plane to fruition. Before it began, his necromancers forced me to drink a mixture of his blood and various other things. It linked me to him… and kept me alive throughout their torture. I’m certain I’m not going to turn into one of those abominations, and I’m also certain that I’ve blocked out any mindlink that there mind be while I’m awake, but my dreams have been riddled with his servant, Gabriel. I do not think they are dreams though. It’s too real to be dreams.” A frown finally appeared on Khitti’s lips, “Please don’t tell anyone, least of all Lionel and Meri. I can’t have them worrying about me… and if I can figure out how to use this to my advantage? Then it’s less I have to concentrate on.”

Encara drops her gaze to her metal-covered hand, murmuring, "Old magic is greedy magic… and it doesn't show mercy even to the inexperienced." Truthfully she and Mithras'endil were lucky to have escaped that failed ritual with their lives, but these days, Encara isn't so certain it was luck that saved them. "It definitely isn't an outright no," she says while flashing Khitti a wan smile. "If I could find a way to erase the many misconceptions of Delishan worship, I would. Perhaps here is where that starts." Falling silent again as the topic shifts to Aedrebyrg and the sleepless malice that lurks at the root of the recent chaos, Encara listens with growing concern - she remembers the sight of Khitti's face splattered with that foul black ooze and since that night, the drow has kept a close eye on the redhead whenever they've been in each other's presence. She looks at her now, closely, brow furrowed. "I can't say I entirely approve, but you have my word - I will keep your secret. But be careful… mind flayers are powerful creatures. And if you do turn…" She draws her knees up against her chest, leans her head against them. "It'll be dealt with. Quickly, I promise. I would expect nothing less from you if the same fate should befall me." A moment of thoughtful quiet passes before Encara speaks again with some hesitation. It is not often the drow shares details of her past and Lionel's reactions to her mentions of the Underdark have not been promising— but Khitti, she feels, does not carry the same burdens as her brother. She has her own, yes, but her memories are less weighed down by drow than the Hero of Hellfire's seem to be. "I have encountered a mind flayer before, so I'll do what I can to help, but they are difficult foes. I hunted one when I was young - a test of courage and skill, but it was a foolish move to take on something so strong at such an age. Had I been alone, I would have died. Thankfully," she says, mouth twisting in a smirk, "other drow were as stubborn as I and we took it down together. There are no drow more loyal, more fierce in a fight, than those allied against a common foe."

Khitti briefly returned the smile, a nod accompanying it in understand to Encara’s thoughts regarding the guild and Delisha. The smile faded though, as the conversation returned to the mind flayer, red brows furrowing in thought, “I’ve fought the mind flayer from my past, crushed his skull with shadow tendrils, letting them slither through his flesh, returning the pain he’d given me. He was old, but not as old as this one feels--even through Gabriel’s mind--and the one I killed was insane. He became too mortal in mind somewhat, after a time, crazed to the point that it weakened him considerably. It made him cocky. I had another there, the one that sired me, but it was my task to deal with alone. I would not have been able to do it if I hadn’t been a vampire, but… the flayer had brought back my sister’s teenage corpse, all this way from Dhavislaav, and used it like a puppet of his own.” Khitti stared at her hands, remembering the flayer’s foul blood as she crushed his skull further and ripped it apart. “This is not a secret you will have to keep for long. Let me formulate a plan so that Lionel knows I’m not going into this blind. We should probably meet with him soon, regardless of whether or not that plan is produced right away. These others byrgs need to be dealt with swiftly and Gabriel lured out so that we can find his master.” She looked to Encara finally, fixing her concerned, yet somewhat confused gaze on the drow, “I don’t want to do this by myself this time. I don’t think I can. I’m not strong enough. I don’t even know how I’m making it through things now, without Lionel and Brand. The things Gabriel’s done to these people. It’s almost like what happened to me, except they don’t live through it. They’re ripped to shreds by a dagger and left screaming and it reminds me of me and I can’t do this again...”

Encara is not sure whether she should attempt to offer comfort or congratulations, so she merely stays quiet while Khitti relates the tale of how she destroyed the monsters in her past, listening intently but only giving a nod in reply. Lionel's name is mentioned again and the drow scrunches her face slightly, rubbing at her shoulder. "I agree. If I could spare more men, I'd have more scouts in the field along with Thom and Kren, but pilfering too many soldiers will alert Eresandria to my existence again. With luck, she's forgotten about me - either way, I don't want to be on her radar. We… don't get along." Huffing a sigh, she waves her hand and quickly dusts the topic of House Val'thyrion's matron under the proverbial rug. "The other byrgs may be untouched, but it'd be wise to check all the same." Khitti meets her gaze - Encara's expression is more open now than it has ever been in the redhead's presence, conveying the understanding and sympathy she does not know how to express with words. Very briefly, she places a hand on Khitti's closest knee. "You have Meri, and the Paladins and Warriors guilds. You have your blade's spirit— even Cyris himself at your back. And you have me. You are not alone, Khitti. We'll do this together, however we must, or not at all." The drow tilts her head a touch, then, lips pursing into a small frown. "But you're right about one thing. Lionel needs to remember the state of the world at present— the one he pulled me into when he made me part of this Alliance. There's no time to fool around and forget your priorities. Whether he likes it or not, for better or worse, he's seen as a leader by these people… and I will drag him back to reality if I must." This is not a veil, no pretty words to mask her desire to see him again - all personal feelings aside, Encara means what she says and the frustration is evident in her hardened tone. Why should Khitti have to do his paperwork while he schmoozes in Cenril? "I know he's your brother, but he's being an idiot. Kahran won't wait for him to sort out his relationships."

Khitti ’s sad, flustered demeanor was soothed somewhat by Encara’s touch and her words of encouragement, as well as those words of salt. The urge to grab the drow’s hand is there, to give it a squeeze in thanks, but she resisted, instead turning her attention to Francis who’d fallen asleep upside down. “No, I understand. I don’t want you to put yourself into anymore trouble than you have already. We have to figure out these byrgs and Gabriel and those wraiths too.” Khitti’d not forgotten about that fight near the tar pit. “I meant what I said when I said I’d help you with that. Entirely. Even now as Venturil seeks to haunt my dreams.” The mention of Lionel ‘sorting out his relationships’ stiffen Khitti’s back somewhat, an attempt at her own stony demeanor finding its way to the redhead’s face, “I’m half tempted to arrange a meeting with him in one of the byrgs. I doubt they’re all like Aedrebyrg or else we would’ve heard about it. They’re much too close to Venturil’s main town. If we come prepared, things might be okay. I’ll send a scout of my own to make sure first before sending word to any of you. Otherwise, Cenril or here in Frostmaw would do. It might finally open his eyes to things--that it’s more than just Kahran, that more things matter than his Red Witch.” It was clear that Khitti still had an ocean’s worth of salt herself when it came to Lionel and Valrae, no matter the fact that she’d met him. Her irritation was with her brother solely, however, for this had been going on far longer than Valrae’s recent rebirth.

Encara holds no ill will towards Valrae herself, or at least nothing that'll stick. It's difficult to hate the woman she fought so hard to bring back simply because a man is attracted to her. But Lionel is a man she respects - his recent absence has not sat well with the drow and the fact she isn't the focus of his attentions is not her issue… though it would certainly make it easier to wake him up to reality, she muses sardonically. Encara is not one for long walks on the beach, romantic dinners, and sweet nothings whispered in the shadow of night. Perhaps it's for the best his eye was never drawn to her, then. She's glad to see Khitti seems to agree with her sentiments, at least, nodding along with her suggestion to meet in one of the byrgs. "If not there then Venturil itself, perhaps. Let him get a taste of the foul air." A small shake of the head follows as the drow pushes thoughts of the Hero of Hellfire aside, thankful that her irritation is prickly enough to stop the softer ones from distracting her, and continues, "The wraiths are dealt with, as far as I believe. Thom and Kren are still out there searching for signs of any more… but wraiths were never the root of my problem." Her gaze has dropped to her hands and, finally, Encara begins to undo the straps securing her gauntlet. The main arm plate comes off first, the metal glove following - immediately the bone-chill of dark magic begins to swell in the air and she holds her hand out, showing Khitti the void that's settled in the palm of her hand. Trails of a smoky black substance swirl across the drow's skin and cover the majority of her forearm, bleeding out of the main wound. The shadow-scars shift and spin in lazy patterns, content in the half-light that blankets the room. "I was a child," she explains softly. "Eresandria and my grandmother told my brother and I to reopen the umbral pool, but we had no idea what we were doing - the portal collapsed and the Shadow Plane left its mark upon both of us. To be honest, I don't know what will happen when this consumes me…" But that wraith did not fill her with confidence. "If I can find a greydusk, or someone from the Shadow Plane who might know a cure— a way to stop it, maybe…" She doesn't finish.

Khitti was that sort of person, the type that liked the romance and beach walks and such, but she also knew when it was time to get to business and Brand was the same way. It was even a wonder to Khitti that Lionel fell for someone, especially after his wife and their children died so many years ago, long before the Catalian and Dhavislaavian ever met. A nod was given in agreement to using Venturil to set the scene for their meeting, a slight sly grin forming. See? Khitti definitely had a bit of a dark, mischievous side. You just have to get to know her and get past that “I’m Lionel’s sister and I’m as good as the rest of the holy sorts’ mask. When the gauntlet was removed and the arm shown to Khitti, the redhead was quick to snatch it up for an inspection, if ever so gingerly. “Seven frakking hells and all the paths in between.” That meant things were bad, in Brand-speak. “Encara, this is not good. The Shadow Plane’s taint, it’s not meant for mortals. It’s even worse than what regular necromancy can do to a person. It doesn’t look like what happened to me but… this is the reason why I became a vampire. It almost killed me. I was fused with an umbrawisp’s essence, so maybe that’s why it’s only like this. Perhaps it’s not as potent, but still very much serious." Khitt frowned deeply, releasing the woman’s arm, “We will figure this out too. I have a way to get to the Shadow Plane, but you and your scouts may have to be the ones to cast the spell.” She sighed then, peering up at Francis, “You wanna go home and see daddy, Francis?” All eight eyes opened up, the spider trilling happily at his mother. “I’ve got to go back to Cenril, but believe me when I say that this is as much of a priority to me as dealing with Venturil and Kahran.” Khitti hesitated somewhat, but ultimately gave Encara a bit of a hug. Nothing fancy, just quick and enough to show the drow that she cared. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, standing up, mustering a faint smile for Encara. “Oh, before I do… I have a room here you can use, only if you want to though. It doesn’t have any windows either and you can make it as dark as you’d like.”

Encara musters a weak grin, entirely forced. "No shit it's not good." She laughs harshly, the traces of anger and frustration woven into her expression not meant for Khitti, but rather aimed at herself. Were she stronger, perhaps she could have bested this. "My brother's is not quite as bad, thankfully… mine seems to worsen when I use magic, but he rarely resorts to it himself, though he was born with the ability." Once Khitti releases her arm, Encara is quick to cover the limb again, hiding her weakness beneath the dark, jagged metal of her gauntlet. "I don't even know where to start," she admits. "If we can find a greydusk, maybe, who can point us in the direction of someone who can help, we can cut down on the time spent in the Shadow Plane. I've heard it isn't the most pleasant place to get lost in." Encara did not notice much herself, but then, she was also quite busy saving Khova and trying not to die. The hug comes as some surprise and for a moment, the drow tenses in Khitti's arms - she is rarely touched by others and even less often is the touch meant with kindness, but she manages to return the gesture before Khitti pulls away. "I'll see you soon, then," she says as she stands, making her way across to the door to see the redhead and Francis off. The oversized arachnid gets an affectionate little scritch on the top of his head when he descends from the ceiling to leave, before Encara turns to Khitti once more and laughs. "I appreciate the offer, but this actually suits me just fine. I don't need much - I'm used to sleeping in the wilderness so what you're looking at is practically luxury." It's a small, narrow space between two store rooms but it's hers, and that's what counts.