Neverwinter Forest that which takes in turns, gives in spades

Phocion understands her. She tucks away the knowledge of Cortland's wound for now, until she can better address it for herself, but Phocion understands that she had to go. She feels relieved and strangely, a little more shaken. Perhaps because it is confirmation of trauma (if she dare borrow such a heavy word). Or at least... a message of some grim omen.

But they don't dwell on it. "Yes," she confirms, her expression softening slightly. "She's taken up residence on an island off the coast. She seems much happier," the ex-priestess adds with a slightly melancholy smile. As glad as she is for Sif, as happy as she is to see her doing well, a part of her feels slightly stung by her departure. It may be unearned, but it is there: had they not been the closest, as sister-wives? That Sif's departure coincided with the arrival of the metal beast did not help matters.

Shaking her head slightly she comes back to the moment, blinking at Phocion. "I'll be fine," she says with an elegant roll of her shoulder, pulling back on an old mask of coolness. "And I'll start gathering some plants for Cortland's paw," Poet adds, glad, at least, that is is spring, and there are tasks to be done.