Avith + Isvelle + Evie // where there's smoke there may be fire
Who: Avith, Isvelle, and Evie
When: Late Thursday night/early Friday morning after this
Where: in the Citadel's nave
Rating & Warnings: PG for almost burnination?
Despite all that was going on outside, Avith felt strangely calm as he took the stairs down to the nave. He'd come across a few already pacing or simply peering out windows, some surprised by him, others nodding, or ignoring him, and he went past them all with only a nod of the head where necessary. It was late, growing later, but even then he wouldn't be asleep for some time. It was almost as though he was relieved to have something exterior to him to worry about.
The Occia paced upstairs. Of those awake, initiates and priests alike fretted and murmured prayers. There was not much Avith could do, as times of inaction were not his forte, but the silence of the nave drew him to it. He was not alone, he saw, when he arrived, already a priest or two praying in the pews. He walked slowly down the central aisle and stopped, bowing to the altar, before he went off to the side. The nave was dimly lit, which was not very comforting at such a time. He knew there would be others down soon to join those already there in prayer, and darkness was no reassurance.
He took a stick from the table where the prayer candles lay, and lit it, slowly moving it over those already lit and lighting one for his own reasons, as he always did, before he took the stick, and another like it, and began to light the sconces on the walls. It would have calmed him, if he were not already in such a state. When the stick began to burn down, he lit a second, careful to make sure the spark was out in the first, and continue on.
Isvelle was troubled. One could say that Isvelle was always troubled, but tonight was a special case. An Other had been killed in the streets. Everyone else was worried that they were in danger because the mob would start attacking everyone indiscriminately, but she was worried because they didn't have to start being indiscriminate for her to be in danger.
Isvelle was lucky, as Others went. Her condition was easily hidden. Nobody noticed how her skin had paled when she'd returned from Ireland, or if they did they blamed it on the time away, and so long as she wore her gloves nobody noticed how cold she was to the touch. Her behaviour was odd, but not odd enough for people to suspect anything, and though she could walk through walls and float if she wanted to, she avoided it. For most observers, she was only a sullen, withdrawn person, and not someone who had come back from the dead. But she worried. She worried that people would somehow know, despite all her concealment. That if she went outside with that mob out there, even in her priest robes, one of them would realize what she was and strike her down, just like the beast they'd killed already.
It was her worry that led her from her room tonight. She never slept, but tonight, for once, she was not alone in that. She drifted toward the nave, surprised to find it so full at this hour. She was even more surprised to find Cancellari Rempel there, lighting the sconces. She came up beside him, moving as silently as she always did, and asked, "Would you like some help, brother?"
The prospect of helping one of the Cancellarius filled Evie with nervousness and excitement. That English knight had helped her feel considerably better by just the nice small talk, and everyone else who had responded her silly plea was nice. (Also, the Occia!!!!) Cita would keep them safe. She would pray Cita would keep them safe and healthy.
Evie was still worried, especially if that crowd of people were truly indiscriminately killing people, but if they had only killed Others... she felt no remorse. As she neared the nave, however, most of her excitement in helping and joining (!!) Cancellari Rempel (!!!) faded so it was back to mostly timidness. She hoped she didn't accidentally make a fool of herself somehow...
She spotted the Cancellari first and then the priestess. A smile broke across her face. They were two that she liked and most admired at the Citadel. Calming herself, she walked carefully towards them. She wasn't clumsy, but she could get unlucky. "Cancellari Rempel. Sister Danica," she greeted them quietly.
Avith glanced up at the voice beside him. He had not heard Sister Isvelle approach. Such things did not happen often, and while it caught him off guard a moment, he was far from the jumpy type (unless it was William kicking doors). "Sister Isvelle... good evening," he said, voice soft. He looked away to light another candle. The tall candelabras held ten candles each, and one stood on each side of the altar. His hand was steady, moving from wick to wick, each flame brightening and warming up the nave. "If you like. Just to get some... light in here."
Already it looked much more comfortable. He had no problems with large, quiet spaces such as this, but the darkness could make it seem oppressive. One of the few things that had given him peace since he came was the sight of the nave lit at night. Perhaps it would lead others to stay and sit awhile, instead of worrying themselves sick on their own. Perhaps he ought talk with the Occia...
He turned again at a second voice, seeing the younger woman approach. He smiled back in greeting, a brief, boyish expression that faded once more into neutrality. "Sister Eveline." He knew her name, but he had not been able to match the face to it. "Here to help as well?"
At his word, Isvelle took up a second stick, lit it from one of the already lit candles, and began working on the other side. She considered rolling her loose sleeves up to avoid having them catch fire, but decided that she would risk it. With all the panic going on, she'd rather not take any risks.
When Evie showed up, she turned to give the girl a smile, though like all her smiles it didn't quite seem to make it to her eyes. "Still can't sleep, sister?"
Her smile was shy as she faced both of them. She almost felt like she didn't deserve to be in their presences, but that only meant she had to try better to be more fitting as an Initiate. "Yes, I still can't sleep...." She turned to look at how many candles were already lit. "It, um, it looks like you've already lit a few."
She fetched a stick, though, since she still wanted to help, and she didn't want to look like she didn't want to help.
Shaking out the flame on his stick, he stepped back, letting the young girl and the priestess continue lighting candles in his stead. He wore his Cancellarius robe still, the large building never quite able to retain the heat of the day. He watched the two lighting candles, noting how well they got on. Eveline, if he recalled correctly, was usually quite shy around him. She seemed a little more at ease with Isvelle there.
"A few more... won't hurt." He spoke in such a way that it did not stand out too much from the quiet of the nave, already so quiet himself. That he spoke at all would seem strange to some. "Perhaps... soon, you can sleep... tomorrow, here... will be no different... than any other day."
If there were more injured to bring in, it would be busier than usual, actually. He tried not to glance at Sister Isvelle. Days like that she was... a little more emotional than usual.
She was trying not to think about whether there would be an influx of injured people to care for tomorrow. It was so difficult to stay calm in the face of that, knowing which were doomed to die instead of recovering in the Citadel's care. Hopefully there would be no injuries and this mob had only come together for the one Other.
"If you still cannot sleep after this," she said, pausing in her lighting to turn to Evie, "you may as well stay up until you can't any longer. It is not the preferred method, but it works."
Evie began lighting candles methodically, taking comfort in doing something like this. She was glad that she agreed to the Cancellari's idea to light candles. Her strengths mostly lay in activities like this, and she could just focus on her task. Thinking was something she did less of; she just did.
She kept her voice just as quiet as Avith's, pausing in lighting when both spoke. "I... I hope tomorrow will come peaceful." She really, really did. "I may just start some of my chores earlier. I-It may tire me out..." If she went at them very vigorously as well as very quietly. "I, um, hope you two can find sleep soon, too."
The two women speaking to each other also had a calming effect, though perhaps it was just him. He turned to glance out over the pews- another two or three, drawn by voices and light, had wandered down, settling themselves into the pews. In times of trouble, this should be one of the first places for the people of the Citadel to go. Nothing was worse than dealing with fears and worries alone.
"I will not sleep... for some time yet," he said by way of reassurance. Whether it was or not was a different matter. "The army... instills strange sleeping hours." Isvelle, he had noticed, kept strange hours as well. Whatever had befallen her in Ireland had changed her in a dramatic way. And not, he felt, for the better.
"Initiate. How long. Have you been here?" The candles had another advantage- warming up the chill nighttime air. They'd be into warmer nights soon enough- he looked forward to that.
Isvelle's heart fluttered a little every time someone mentioned something that assumed she was still...normal. Evie wishing her a night's rest was a small thing, barely notable in the flow of conversation, but it made Isvelle suddenly mindful of the people around her. Her answer was a polite, "A good idea, sister," in response to the bit about chores, to keep up appearances.
She listened intently to Avith's reply and waited for Evie to answer him, turning her head to watch the girl instead of the candle she was lighting.
With her eyes elsewhere, she didn't notice her sleeve falling against a lower candle she'd just lit.
Avith's answer almost took Evie by surprise. Even though she had heard that he had been in the army, he had always been part of the Cancellarius in her eyes. She looked at him with a wide-eyed stare, not judging, but more like her world view had been widened unexpectedly. "Oh," she said, not really knowing how to reply. Habits were habits, weren't they?
"I've been here a little over five yea--" She turned to face Avith more when she caught sight of Isvelle's sleeve lighting on fire. "Oh, o-oh, Cita!" she cried, eyes wide. "S-Sister Danica!" She hurriedly tried to blow her stick out while hurrying over to Isvelle.
He'd been looking between the two of them, attention momentarily on Evie, when he noticed the size of the flame. Without hesitation he stepped over, long strides bringing him to her side quickly, wordlessly grabbing her arm and twisting the sleeve between his gloved hands, extinguishing it quickly. It took him a moment to realize, between the flame and the sudden shock, that the cold he felt was a third element entirely.
"Sister," he said, ignoring that for now. Besides Evie's exclamation, there had been no other sound. some had looked up, saw nothing amiss, went back to their thoughts and prayers. He hesitated, then let her arm go. "Are you all right?"
He looked to Evie, to check on her as well, make sure she had not somehow done the same in her own panic.
Evie's cry was so panicked, Isvelle's immediate response was the assumption that Evie had hurt herself somehow. But Evie was moving toward her. Isvelle looked down to see the flame on her sleeve a split second before Avith stepped in to pull her aside and smother it with his gloves. She dropped her stick in the process, which smoldered on the ground, and she was too surprised to bother about it.
"I..." She looked between the two of them, stepping back, and lifted her arm to examine the hole burned in the white linen. Sounding dazed, she answered, "...I should have rolled my sleeves up, I suppose."
Evie had just barely managed to snuff her candle out by the time she reach Isvelle, breathing a huge sigh of relief when Avith managed to put it out so quickly. Only her years of experience of doing chores kept her from dropping the candle in her panic and hurry.
Barely even aware that there were any other people in the nave anymore, she hovered near Isvelle. "A-are you sure you're okay?" Worry was evident in the tone of her voice and in her expression. She didn't even realize that the priestess hadn't exactly answered Avith's question.
A moment passed before he let go of her wrist. It was the oddest sensation, and only the fact that his movements were normally seen as unhurried saved him from showing his surprise. His hands were cold. Biting, almost. He resisted the urge to tuck them under his arms. Instead they hovered still.
"I should have said something," he murmured, looking back to the candles, the wax smeared on the lower ones where her sleeve had caught. "You arm....?"
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching the Cancellari's unhurried motions. Had he noticed her chill? No, he was wearing gloves, surely it was just that he always moved like that. She looked down, making a show of inspecting her arm though she knew, of course, that it would be fine. The lit stick on the floor was still smoldering, she noticed; she smothered it with the toe of her shoe.
"I am unharmed," she answered, pulling her sleeve back and holding up her arm to show them. Pale as the rest of her, but not unnaturally so. She could claim that she simply didn't get enough sun. It wasn't long before she lowered it, tugging the burnt cloth down to cover it. "Thank you, Brother Avith, for your quick actions. And Sister Evie, for your sharp eyes."
Unobservant as she was, Evie took their actions at face value and didn't read any deeper into them. She smiled her relief. "No, I'm just glad you're unhurt." Really glad.
She didn't want to imagine what would have happened if Avith wasn't as quick as he was. Though, he was a Cancellari for a very good reason, she reasoned. There was no way she would be falling asleep any time soon after this.
He looked at Isvelle a moment and nodded. It was nothing, he thought, taking the priestess gently by the elbow. "I will finish," he said. Was the chill there? Or was it just that his hands were still cold? "Sit for now. I will join in a moment."
He let go, looking to Evie, and nodded to her as well. "All is well," he said, noting the look on her face, wondering if she knew it was there herself. Five years, she'd said? He crouched down and picked up the stick Isvelle had stepped on, wiping the dirt off of it before he set it alight again, more conscious of his own cloak this time around. He had been here only a year at that point... she must be about the age of the Occia...
Ah, Tobias was right. He was getting old.
Isvelle nodded, glad of the chance to walk away and gather her thoughts. She went to the nearest pew and sat, her back straight and not touching the backboard of the pew, her head down, and her hands clasped in her lap. She looked again at the hole burnt into her sleeve, blackened around the edges. And she hadn't rolled them up because she was afraid of risking her secret. What irony Cita saw fit to grant her! Did Brother Avith know? Did he suspect? But of course no one would think to look for an Other in the Citadel. If he noticed anything strange, surely he likened it to some other cause. For now, though, she would be sure to be especially cautious around him.
Evie nodded in return and took a seat in the pew in front of Isvelle. It looked like the priestess wanted more time to collect herself, which Evie could not blame her for. She knew she would be more than shaken if she had almost been burned alive.
First, she would thank Cita that Sister Danica was alright and that Cancellari Rempel was there and then she would pray for the safety and peace of Tyrol. She bent her head and began her prayers.
When: Late Thursday night/early Friday morning after this
Where: in the Citadel's nave
Rating & Warnings: PG for almost burnination?
Despite all that was going on outside, Avith felt strangely calm as he took the stairs down to the nave. He'd come across a few already pacing or simply peering out windows, some surprised by him, others nodding, or ignoring him, and he went past them all with only a nod of the head where necessary. It was late, growing later, but even then he wouldn't be asleep for some time. It was almost as though he was relieved to have something exterior to him to worry about.
The Occia paced upstairs. Of those awake, initiates and priests alike fretted and murmured prayers. There was not much Avith could do, as times of inaction were not his forte, but the silence of the nave drew him to it. He was not alone, he saw, when he arrived, already a priest or two praying in the pews. He walked slowly down the central aisle and stopped, bowing to the altar, before he went off to the side. The nave was dimly lit, which was not very comforting at such a time. He knew there would be others down soon to join those already there in prayer, and darkness was no reassurance.
He took a stick from the table where the prayer candles lay, and lit it, slowly moving it over those already lit and lighting one for his own reasons, as he always did, before he took the stick, and another like it, and began to light the sconces on the walls. It would have calmed him, if he were not already in such a state. When the stick began to burn down, he lit a second, careful to make sure the spark was out in the first, and continue on.
Isvelle was troubled. One could say that Isvelle was always troubled, but tonight was a special case. An Other had been killed in the streets. Everyone else was worried that they were in danger because the mob would start attacking everyone indiscriminately, but she was worried because they didn't have to start being indiscriminate for her to be in danger.
Isvelle was lucky, as Others went. Her condition was easily hidden. Nobody noticed how her skin had paled when she'd returned from Ireland, or if they did they blamed it on the time away, and so long as she wore her gloves nobody noticed how cold she was to the touch. Her behaviour was odd, but not odd enough for people to suspect anything, and though she could walk through walls and float if she wanted to, she avoided it. For most observers, she was only a sullen, withdrawn person, and not someone who had come back from the dead. But she worried. She worried that people would somehow know, despite all her concealment. That if she went outside with that mob out there, even in her priest robes, one of them would realize what she was and strike her down, just like the beast they'd killed already.
It was her worry that led her from her room tonight. She never slept, but tonight, for once, she was not alone in that. She drifted toward the nave, surprised to find it so full at this hour. She was even more surprised to find Cancellari Rempel there, lighting the sconces. She came up beside him, moving as silently as she always did, and asked, "Would you like some help, brother?"
The prospect of helping one of the Cancellarius filled Evie with nervousness and excitement. That English knight had helped her feel considerably better by just the nice small talk, and everyone else who had responded her silly plea was nice. (Also, the Occia!!!!) Cita would keep them safe. She would pray Cita would keep them safe and healthy.
Evie was still worried, especially if that crowd of people were truly indiscriminately killing people, but if they had only killed Others... she felt no remorse. As she neared the nave, however, most of her excitement in helping and joining (!!) Cancellari Rempel (!!!) faded so it was back to mostly timidness. She hoped she didn't accidentally make a fool of herself somehow...
She spotted the Cancellari first and then the priestess. A smile broke across her face. They were two that she liked and most admired at the Citadel. Calming herself, she walked carefully towards them. She wasn't clumsy, but she could get unlucky. "Cancellari Rempel. Sister Danica," she greeted them quietly.
Avith glanced up at the voice beside him. He had not heard Sister Isvelle approach. Such things did not happen often, and while it caught him off guard a moment, he was far from the jumpy type (unless it was William kicking doors). "Sister Isvelle... good evening," he said, voice soft. He looked away to light another candle. The tall candelabras held ten candles each, and one stood on each side of the altar. His hand was steady, moving from wick to wick, each flame brightening and warming up the nave. "If you like. Just to get some... light in here."
Already it looked much more comfortable. He had no problems with large, quiet spaces such as this, but the darkness could make it seem oppressive. One of the few things that had given him peace since he came was the sight of the nave lit at night. Perhaps it would lead others to stay and sit awhile, instead of worrying themselves sick on their own. Perhaps he ought talk with the Occia...
He turned again at a second voice, seeing the younger woman approach. He smiled back in greeting, a brief, boyish expression that faded once more into neutrality. "Sister Eveline." He knew her name, but he had not been able to match the face to it. "Here to help as well?"
At his word, Isvelle took up a second stick, lit it from one of the already lit candles, and began working on the other side. She considered rolling her loose sleeves up to avoid having them catch fire, but decided that she would risk it. With all the panic going on, she'd rather not take any risks.
When Evie showed up, she turned to give the girl a smile, though like all her smiles it didn't quite seem to make it to her eyes. "Still can't sleep, sister?"
Her smile was shy as she faced both of them. She almost felt like she didn't deserve to be in their presences, but that only meant she had to try better to be more fitting as an Initiate. "Yes, I still can't sleep...." She turned to look at how many candles were already lit. "It, um, it looks like you've already lit a few."
She fetched a stick, though, since she still wanted to help, and she didn't want to look like she didn't want to help.
Shaking out the flame on his stick, he stepped back, letting the young girl and the priestess continue lighting candles in his stead. He wore his Cancellarius robe still, the large building never quite able to retain the heat of the day. He watched the two lighting candles, noting how well they got on. Eveline, if he recalled correctly, was usually quite shy around him. She seemed a little more at ease with Isvelle there.
"A few more... won't hurt." He spoke in such a way that it did not stand out too much from the quiet of the nave, already so quiet himself. That he spoke at all would seem strange to some. "Perhaps... soon, you can sleep... tomorrow, here... will be no different... than any other day."
If there were more injured to bring in, it would be busier than usual, actually. He tried not to glance at Sister Isvelle. Days like that she was... a little more emotional than usual.
She was trying not to think about whether there would be an influx of injured people to care for tomorrow. It was so difficult to stay calm in the face of that, knowing which were doomed to die instead of recovering in the Citadel's care. Hopefully there would be no injuries and this mob had only come together for the one Other.
"If you still cannot sleep after this," she said, pausing in her lighting to turn to Evie, "you may as well stay up until you can't any longer. It is not the preferred method, but it works."
Evie began lighting candles methodically, taking comfort in doing something like this. She was glad that she agreed to the Cancellari's idea to light candles. Her strengths mostly lay in activities like this, and she could just focus on her task. Thinking was something she did less of; she just did.
She kept her voice just as quiet as Avith's, pausing in lighting when both spoke. "I... I hope tomorrow will come peaceful." She really, really did. "I may just start some of my chores earlier. I-It may tire me out..." If she went at them very vigorously as well as very quietly. "I, um, hope you two can find sleep soon, too."
The two women speaking to each other also had a calming effect, though perhaps it was just him. He turned to glance out over the pews- another two or three, drawn by voices and light, had wandered down, settling themselves into the pews. In times of trouble, this should be one of the first places for the people of the Citadel to go. Nothing was worse than dealing with fears and worries alone.
"I will not sleep... for some time yet," he said by way of reassurance. Whether it was or not was a different matter. "The army... instills strange sleeping hours." Isvelle, he had noticed, kept strange hours as well. Whatever had befallen her in Ireland had changed her in a dramatic way. And not, he felt, for the better.
"Initiate. How long. Have you been here?" The candles had another advantage- warming up the chill nighttime air. They'd be into warmer nights soon enough- he looked forward to that.
Isvelle's heart fluttered a little every time someone mentioned something that assumed she was still...normal. Evie wishing her a night's rest was a small thing, barely notable in the flow of conversation, but it made Isvelle suddenly mindful of the people around her. Her answer was a polite, "A good idea, sister," in response to the bit about chores, to keep up appearances.
She listened intently to Avith's reply and waited for Evie to answer him, turning her head to watch the girl instead of the candle she was lighting.
With her eyes elsewhere, she didn't notice her sleeve falling against a lower candle she'd just lit.
Avith's answer almost took Evie by surprise. Even though she had heard that he had been in the army, he had always been part of the Cancellarius in her eyes. She looked at him with a wide-eyed stare, not judging, but more like her world view had been widened unexpectedly. "Oh," she said, not really knowing how to reply. Habits were habits, weren't they?
"I've been here a little over five yea--" She turned to face Avith more when she caught sight of Isvelle's sleeve lighting on fire. "Oh, o-oh, Cita!" she cried, eyes wide. "S-Sister Danica!" She hurriedly tried to blow her stick out while hurrying over to Isvelle.
He'd been looking between the two of them, attention momentarily on Evie, when he noticed the size of the flame. Without hesitation he stepped over, long strides bringing him to her side quickly, wordlessly grabbing her arm and twisting the sleeve between his gloved hands, extinguishing it quickly. It took him a moment to realize, between the flame and the sudden shock, that the cold he felt was a third element entirely.
"Sister," he said, ignoring that for now. Besides Evie's exclamation, there had been no other sound. some had looked up, saw nothing amiss, went back to their thoughts and prayers. He hesitated, then let her arm go. "Are you all right?"
He looked to Evie, to check on her as well, make sure she had not somehow done the same in her own panic.
Evie's cry was so panicked, Isvelle's immediate response was the assumption that Evie had hurt herself somehow. But Evie was moving toward her. Isvelle looked down to see the flame on her sleeve a split second before Avith stepped in to pull her aside and smother it with his gloves. She dropped her stick in the process, which smoldered on the ground, and she was too surprised to bother about it.
"I..." She looked between the two of them, stepping back, and lifted her arm to examine the hole burned in the white linen. Sounding dazed, she answered, "...I should have rolled my sleeves up, I suppose."
Evie had just barely managed to snuff her candle out by the time she reach Isvelle, breathing a huge sigh of relief when Avith managed to put it out so quickly. Only her years of experience of doing chores kept her from dropping the candle in her panic and hurry.
Barely even aware that there were any other people in the nave anymore, she hovered near Isvelle. "A-are you sure you're okay?" Worry was evident in the tone of her voice and in her expression. She didn't even realize that the priestess hadn't exactly answered Avith's question.
A moment passed before he let go of her wrist. It was the oddest sensation, and only the fact that his movements were normally seen as unhurried saved him from showing his surprise. His hands were cold. Biting, almost. He resisted the urge to tuck them under his arms. Instead they hovered still.
"I should have said something," he murmured, looking back to the candles, the wax smeared on the lower ones where her sleeve had caught. "You arm....?"
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, watching the Cancellari's unhurried motions. Had he noticed her chill? No, he was wearing gloves, surely it was just that he always moved like that. She looked down, making a show of inspecting her arm though she knew, of course, that it would be fine. The lit stick on the floor was still smoldering, she noticed; she smothered it with the toe of her shoe.
"I am unharmed," she answered, pulling her sleeve back and holding up her arm to show them. Pale as the rest of her, but not unnaturally so. She could claim that she simply didn't get enough sun. It wasn't long before she lowered it, tugging the burnt cloth down to cover it. "Thank you, Brother Avith, for your quick actions. And Sister Evie, for your sharp eyes."
Unobservant as she was, Evie took their actions at face value and didn't read any deeper into them. She smiled her relief. "No, I'm just glad you're unhurt." Really glad.
She didn't want to imagine what would have happened if Avith wasn't as quick as he was. Though, he was a Cancellari for a very good reason, she reasoned. There was no way she would be falling asleep any time soon after this.
He looked at Isvelle a moment and nodded. It was nothing, he thought, taking the priestess gently by the elbow. "I will finish," he said. Was the chill there? Or was it just that his hands were still cold? "Sit for now. I will join in a moment."
He let go, looking to Evie, and nodded to her as well. "All is well," he said, noting the look on her face, wondering if she knew it was there herself. Five years, she'd said? He crouched down and picked up the stick Isvelle had stepped on, wiping the dirt off of it before he set it alight again, more conscious of his own cloak this time around. He had been here only a year at that point... she must be about the age of the Occia...
Ah, Tobias was right. He was getting old.
Isvelle nodded, glad of the chance to walk away and gather her thoughts. She went to the nearest pew and sat, her back straight and not touching the backboard of the pew, her head down, and her hands clasped in her lap. She looked again at the hole burnt into her sleeve, blackened around the edges. And she hadn't rolled them up because she was afraid of risking her secret. What irony Cita saw fit to grant her! Did Brother Avith know? Did he suspect? But of course no one would think to look for an Other in the Citadel. If he noticed anything strange, surely he likened it to some other cause. For now, though, she would be sure to be especially cautious around him.
Evie nodded in return and took a seat in the pew in front of Isvelle. It looked like the priestess wanted more time to collect herself, which Evie could not blame her for. She knew she would be more than shaken if she had almost been burned alive.
First, she would thank Cita that Sister Danica was alright and that Cancellari Rempel was there and then she would pray for the safety and peace of Tyrol. She bent her head and began her prayers.