The mention of when they had first met sent the woman back a second time, though only long enough to recall that initial meeting. Standing in the palace of a foreign kingdom, surrounded by elves she did not know. The tension in her form had likely been palpable that day, moreso than usual. She could imagine herself standing among these graceful beings, twisting icons of shadow, sticking out like a sore thumb as a wolfish, near barbaric Lycian. She was more graceful than her kin, and over time less attention had been offered to that consideration.

The rigid posture, the stoic gaze...that had never changed. Years of training and incessant work had left the woman on guard the majority of her life. If there was one thing people could not question, it was her discipline.

She had considered Thortan for a moment, perhaps the barest flicker of a smile...the tiniest twitch of her lips suggesting a minute amount of humor had trickled through. She leaned toward him a touch, and though a true smile never appeared, there was an unfamiliar melody to her voice. "A mission destined for failure, I'm afraid. I am Lycian, Thortan, I do not laugh. I bark."