Dragoncrest Cliffs every demon wants his pound of flesh,

He knew, undoubtedly so, that if only Portia were still among the living, her guidance may be of real use to Aure here and now. His praise and fond tellings about her is only one thing, but an experienced healer, one steeped in Drageda's tendencies, surely would have known what else to say to her and what to help her learn--to help guide her growth among them and understand how best to carry the weight of warriors. Gently, he nodded his head. She was, and I'm sure she would have better words of wisdom for your plight as Drageda's healer--ones besides, it simply takes time, he said, his humor still chilly despite the undertone of sympathy he shared, but he wanted to believe that Portia would have liked her very much and her company--what with their interests overlapping enough. She would have plenty to share with her thanks to that, he knew.

But, he found he could relate, down to the wry curvature that came with her words. I feel that, too, he said, knowing it came in a different way for him. He could go for a good, long sleep, and the feeling resonated deep in his bones. The solidarity of the feeling wasn't lost on him. Maybe one day, he scoffed softly, though there was little hope for it truly. Instead they would adapt, overcome, and learn.

When she offered her insight into the lands she had known before here, this Rhaesuial, he listened, always a quiet fondness for the histories others brought before them, and how it would factor into their integration of Drageda. Hers differed greatly, it seemed.. but such was the beauty of life and she seemed to understand that the learning was a work in progress. For having come from some place so different, then in that case, she was holding herself above the waters well from the looks of it. He couldn't blame her for feeling that exhaustion--a special sort reserved for the healers in a pack inclined to warfare. Truly, never a dull moment here.. he shook his head softly. It had been true for years, he knew. I think you are well on your way, he said, his tone low but sincere. He had only truly just met her, but he sensed a goodness in her, and a drive that not all could carry with them.

Even in such assumptions, there would never be any guarantee. As with all things, time would tell, and he'd find out sooner or later if his first impression of her would stand true but enough years on him had told him patience was key, too. Should she remain with them, he trusted all would be favorable for her, should she be able to stand among them. She would either succeed, or not, and then none of it would have anything to do with him, or Drageda; she'd just be another one of the many that faded far too soon.. although he hoped that perhaps not, and that the niches here would suit her, let her grow, and foster a strong wolf alongside them--mind and body alike. Drageda had done well for him in the grand scheme. He had purpose here, and as he gave for it, it returned the favor.

And, with all that said, eventually, given a few simple parting notes, he was on her way to let her to be introspection while he took his own elsewhere--and hopefully a well-deserved rest soon. She ought to do the same..