Neverwinter Forest that which takes in turns, gives in spades

She understands his feelings. Perhaps it's something in the architecture of the Valley, compressed between those steep walls: a secure holding, a hidden treasure, and a prison all the same. Poet nods, unoffended by his explanation (and although she does not yet recognize the name Cortland, she files it away without a word, content to assume they are a friend of Phocion's). "I can," she agrees, "though I cannot promise how helpful I will be." She possesses enough rudimentary knowledge to tend to most injuries but without knowing exactly what is wrong, she does not want to promise anything.

"I'm sorry I did not say good-by properly," the ex-priestess adds, a touch sheepish. "After Sif left, and after the metal beast visited us, I just felt... I needed to get away." Her gaze draws away, ears laying back softly, contritely. She has still not begun to make sense of the vision or its impact on her and on Venninne (oh, if only she'd been able to communicate with the girl!). But if anyone could understand, could help her navigate its meanings, it is Phocion.