Friendly as Rilolia wanted to get with Yazulayne, having her distracted by an unfortunate animal-eared individual did bring a certain tranquility to Rilolia for the time being; orphans in Talze Uterra were one thing, but the way Yazulayne behaved was another. Exhausting might have been a proper term for Yazulayne. But there was more to her stress than teaming up with mentally questionable elf, and as she patted down her coat for something to drink to find them vacant, her stress peaked even higher. She had a headache, visions of Dead Gear falling into the lava, that swordsman's virtual invulnerability, a prison. She needed some air.
Climbing to the upper deck, Rilolia found herself rubbing her head after taking the cap from it. In her internalized storm, she nearly passed Chad by without even a hello, but a cool breeze managed to cool her head off briefly enough for her to notice the man peacefully sipping on some liverous poison. Replacing her cap and straightening out her posture, she sat beside him on the deck and took in a deep breath.
"Ah, Chad, nearly missed you," she greeted, clenching her eyes shut in an attempt to dull her growing headache. Truly she was suffering from would have inevitably come; a lightning strike of doubt and fear. The ache that comes when one is to far in to tell someone else -someone who put in time and effort- that you may want to turn back. She wouldn't say such a thing, of course, but the split in her head was screaming to do so. If a massive God of War could not take down a single man, what nonsense allowed her the chance to do it herself? Now, that swordsman may fortunately fail to show his face during their trip to Astopol, but there was a great feeling Rilolia could not shake.
"Thanks again for helping me out. I really appreciate it," she stated. He'd probably heard enough of it from her though, and she tried to bring up something else. "I don't think I ever asked, but what is it between you and Yazulayne? I sense a bit of hostility."