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Ciradyl had broken off soon after the group made arrangements to meet up plater after the small incident at the docks. It had been years since she had visited her parents' homeland and nearly just as long since she had a day just for herself. It was indulgent, sure, but she was going to let loose a little. Costa del Sol was familiar yet foreign all the same. She compared the architecture and fashion to her previous knowledge, noting the obvious and subtle details alike. Ciradyl stopped at a local cafe along the way and simply listened in on passing gossip. Something rose from the darker corners of her mind that frightened her. There was a shadow of anger at its people that lingered close behind her apparent joy. The corners of her mouth trembled to resist turning into a grimace. Ciradyl paid her bill and fled as soon as he could from the cafe.

Emotions collided with logic as she walked through the busy streets once more, ignoring the various glances cast her way. It felt like a great weight pressing down on her chest and taking her breath away. Her knuckles turned white as they grasped the fabric of her dress in ball around her chest. Ciradyl stepped to the side and began to take deep, long breaths while slowly releasing her grip. What a foolish mistake to set off on her own. Time had yet to the given her the grace to act properly with her newfound freedom.

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Ciradyl curtsied deeply to the grovemasters after Miina and Rudolf had finished speaking, adorned in the finest dress she had acquired in Costa del Sol. [color=B2FFC4]"My companions speak with the sentiments and wisdom of our humble party. Please heed their warnings and accept that your struggles against Valheim and the Blight have been a mere prelude to a far more sinister plot. We would not present ourselves before your mercy and insight if we did not believe the situation to be dire."[/color] Her head had been lowered in reverence for the entire duration and only deigned to look up at them once she had concluded her speech. Truth be told she did not have the greatest hope for these proceedings. The grove masters were notoriously set in their ways and resistant to change much like the titanic trees in which they made their cities.

Her gaze turned over to Arton, who seemed rather keen on avoiding drawing any attention to himself. Nothing had concerned her more within their group than the sudden shift in his demeanor. Ciradyl knew little of the swordsman and had little interest in correcting that, but even she could tell that something was amiss.