Deepwood Weald or a person i could call home.

Owlish, guileless, eyes of iron return to the brumal valkyrie, widening a tic in surprise -- as if the notion of plotting a betrayal was something the sighthound had never quite fathomed before. In truth, she couldn't recall a time that she had ever given the idea any entertainment before; the few rebellions that she could claim to her many names had all been spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment situations. 

And never before had she questioned whether Donovan might trust her.

Doubt blossomed in her heart and her cheeks warmed with embarrassment as it flowed into her veins. Her thin face had closed off, like shutters being drawn over a window, and her typical mask of calm neutrality had been donned once more. Her stormy gaze moved to Donovan again, lips parting to tell him it was okay, he needn't tell her, when the tiarna de cogadh spoke. 

The gypsy's rosy lips quirked slightly with gratitude, a thank you hidden somewhere in the way they curved gently. Warmth dispelled the last of her uncertainty, happy to know that their relationship hadn't changed despite the fact that she had left to track down Aliroth. 

Her eyes returned to Simmik then, pondering her next words with utmost care. Perhaps the warrioress was a co-leader of Donovan's. "It is vise of ye not to trust strangers. I do look forward to earnin' yers vith time though," the older female murmured sagely, dipping her head respectfully though a small smile of friendliness lingered. "I asked only because ze Canyon seemed long deserted last I visited." 

At the brindled halfling's next words, Aerin felt her heart leap with excitement. Gleaming moonstones flickered to meet Donovan's aureate gaze, the fae just barely managing to restrain an exuberant wriggle -- behavior born of her high-strung Saluki heritage. Still, the healer could not stop her sweeping plume of cottony wisps which wagged joyfully. 

"I vould like zat very much," Aerin lilted excitedly and then gave him a little shake of her head, a chuckle of bemusement. "An' thank ye for yer generosity."

Spring-kissed moonstones trailed to Simmik, inexplicably hoping for the other woman's approval for reasons she couldn't quite understand. Aerin sensed something important between her dark friend and the northron. She couldn't quite explain it in words, but she desired to befriend the girl with monarch-wing eyes. 

"Aye, I 'ave vorked as a midvife an' milkmother in years past. I vould still like to learn 'ow to fight, so I might serve ze Saints as a combat medic," the sylph soughed in agreement, hoping to convince Simmik if need be. "If'n ye 'ave any interest in 'ealing perhaps we might teach each other vhen ze 'erbs return vith spring."