Deo’Irah
“There is no corner of my heart I would not turn over to save the lives of the innocent. No secret kept, no resource withheld. In the sight of blessed Reina, let it be known that I would do all this and more to mend their flesh and ease their suffering. Without witness, without hope, without reward. All of this is rather waxing poetic to say something at its heart quite prosaic: I did not have to mention any of this. It would have been much safer for me had I not. Whatever questions you have, whatever judgements about my character that you make, remember how much I have sacrificed already for the sake of these innocent people, and know that I would sacrifice yet more to save them.” Irah said, her mien thoughtful and gaze suddenly distant. When Tedwyn spoke up at the mention of “reward”, her serene bearing regained the fury she had been suppressing earlier and she shot him a glare that could only be described as withering.
“Your reward is the knowledge that your inadequacy and cowardice shall betray you from within for so long as you live. You will get what you contributed: nothing.” she spoke, her tone suddenly venomous and heated. If there was one thing that she truly could not stand, it was a lack of principle: indeed, that was partially what had motivated her to be so forthcoming. Even after having known them for only minutes, really, Deo’Irah could tell that Sirs Yanin and Freagon were truly principled people, with beliefs that might be unknown to her, but whose dedication to those beliefs was evident. Everyone in the room, barring Tedwyn, had come together in a time of crisis to enact the one thing truly required of the strong: to protect the weak. Her heart might otherwise have fluttered with trepidation at the notion of being so unusually forthcoming, but something about these people… she felt among kindred spirits, she supposed. Not unlike another collective of people she was proud to be a part of.
With that delivered, she brushed herself off and gave Lhirin a gentle guiding pat on the arm not tracing over the pages of the journal to direct him while he read. It would not be the first time that she’d had to guide him while he was utterly engrossed by some knowledge promised from a tome–it certainly would not be the last, either. She took a few steps towards the exit before halting, waiting for everything to resolve before she actually visited the stagecoach to gather her things.