[dragon wench]

The moment of shared humour passed, they both began to feel slightly uncomfortable. It was Yoshimo who broke the silence with the sincere gesture he had intended to convey since first entering the common room. “I.... I am deeply sorry for the loss of your sister, it.... it should not have happened like that.... none of it,” he murmured, his voice betraying obvious concern. If there is anything I can do...” Kilyannamaia met his gaze. Though still suspicious, she was grateful. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to say more. Her hands shaking, she lifted the haversack she had brought to the common room and started to place the identified items within. As she did, though, something small fell out; they were the acorns Irenicus’ captive dryads had requested they return to a place called The Windspear Hills. Holding the hard and highly polished nuts in her hand acted as a visceral reminder of Imoen’s reaction to the sylvan dryads... “So beautiful...” Imoen had whispered, her voice barely audible in the gloom.
And then the dryads, so very perceptive in their response, “He has touched you... just as he has touched us... what is it he hopes to find?”
“Yes, what does he hope to find?” muttered Kilyannamaia, angry tears beginning to pool.

Feeling awkward and useless, Yoshimo gazed in silence at the delicate elf. Yet, something told him that Kilyannamaia was far less fragile than she appeared. He recalled her display of anger when he had proposed they stay at the Copper Coronet, and he also remembered the way she had questioned him when they first met, not to mention the quickness with which she had reminded him that Minsc, unlike himself, was a trusted friend. Not for the first time since they’d met, he found himself discretely glancing at those intense green eyes, they seemed to hold a barely contained fire. Though she had been leaning on her druid friend for support, after weeks of torture, it was clear to Yoshimo that Kilyannamaia would emerge as the group’s obvious and capable leader.

At that moment, however, Kilyannamaia felt anything but capable, and she swayed a little as she stood up. Quick on his feet, Yoshimo extended his arm out, offering assistance should she require it. “I’m not completely helpless!” she snapped, suddenly frustrated at the way her present weakness made her appear vulnerable.

“You idiot,” Yoshimo cursed silently to himself. It seemed that no matter what he did, he was unable to overcome the distance at which she held him. This was new to Yoshimo, he was a charismatic man with a natural charm, and he’d always had a unique ability to move easily in any social situation; even beautiful women rarely resisted his easy smile. No, doubt, he thought with bitterness, this was exactly why Irenicus had recruited him for the task at hand. Yet Kilyannamaia was different, she seemed oblivious to his effortless grace and normally winning manner.

“I... my apologies.. I know you are not helpless, you are not helpless at all. But, you have been through a lot and looked as though you might fall, I only wished to offer my assistance should you need it.” His tone was deferential, and he hoped it would dissolve –at least a little— the icy expression with which she regarded him. A wave of exhaustion passed through the elf at that moment, reminding her that she had been through a lot. The past 24 hours were a blur of pain and loss, and catching her reflection in a nearby mirror she understood why Yoshimo had acted as he did. Her face, normally a healthy tan, was drained of colour; she was not just pale, her skin had actually taken on a bloodless --almost translucent-- hue. The dark waves and curls framing her face hung limp, and her sharp, angular bone structure only accentuated the pallor she projected. For the second time that day Kilyannamaia realised she owed Yoshimo an apology. He accepted it with a quiet nod, and once more offered his arm. This time, still unsteady on her feet, she took it, and found herself glad for the escort to her room.

The lanterns had been snuffed out, and Jaheira, tightly curled within her covers appeared to be asleep. But, the tension of her posture suggested otherwise. Kilyannamaia suspected that it would be a long time before either of them would ever be able to find comfort in sleep. However, extreme fatigue had taken its toll; as the night deepened, both women eventually fell into a dreamless lack of consciousness.

Sunlight was filtering through shuttered slats; Kilyannamaia stirred, for a moment unsure of her bearings. Instead of waking on a hard floor in darkness, unable to discern if it was day or night, she felt soft bedding and blissful, golden warmth, and then she remembered... After a night’s rest, however, she felt a renewed strength, and a sense of hope. Since their arrival at the Seven Vales, they had secured good accommodations at a discounted price, and their fight with the gang of mercenaries had yielded some decent equipment. Jaheira had already went downstairs, and the insistent rumbling in Kilyannamaia’s stomach bade her to do the same. She dressed quickly, happy to feel the cleaned robes against her skin. Looking down at herself, though, she knew they would soon need replacing.

The entire party had already descended for breakfast. Jaheira was engaged in an intense discussion with their hostess, and Kilyannamaia heard the words “Copper Coronet” mentioned with loathing. Minsc, on the other hand, seemed considerably cheered by rest in these new surroundings and was happily feeding Boo the remains of his ample breakfast. The final member of the group seemed to have withdrawn into his own thoughts; Yoshimo looked pale, and it was apparent he had slept little.

Just as the elf was considering Yoshimo’s troubled silence, Jaheira strode purposefully to the table, in the one hand bearing a large platter of food, and in the other news of a possible opportunity.