Zavakri’s exhausted emotional state cannot handle the torrent of anger and vitriol coming towards her. She goes wide eyed, like a deer in headlights, and curls inward on herself.

“If Rirvudd were here, he wouldn’t let anyone say such things to me. But he isn’t. And I am. So say what you want. I deserve it, I suppose. I’ll do my best to not let anyone else down or to disappoint anyone ever again.”

She curls into a sobbing ball of sorceress.