[Quiet Man Cometh]

Tarja stood and watched. She was unharmed by the venom, but torn wool and entrails hung from her robes and body armour where snake teeth remained impaled. If there was concern in her eyes, it was not to be seen in the dark shadow cast over her face by her helm. The bronze sword lay abandoned on the asylum floor.

Her eyes moved briefly to Kadia, noting the girl’s demeanor and feeling some degree of pity, or perhaps that was all she was capable of feeling at the moment. The girl had stood up to Thomas and that took some courage, even if it was more than a little foolhardy.

A man was dead, though that could be remedied, it seemed. Another crouched low, naked, and covered in wounds dripping venom and blood. He babbled. Lev babbled, too: something about a being called Na’lsa. She didn’t pay attention; didn’t care. She stood and watched Thomas work, though there was little to see. She stood and tried not to think about whether she should offer to help Thomas; whether she should try to comfort Kadia; whether she should offer a naked man clothes when he didn’t want them…

The thoughts were fleeting. Being human could be far too complicated sometimes.