Kezia had spent time helping bury those who had died at the border, those left to rot by the Eldouir’s. She couldn’t help but look at each face she came across, each one that Geb turned the dirt for and she helped bury. Each one that was familiar to her hit hard… but somehow the unfamiliar faces hit her harder. None hit as hard as it was coming across Camus and Mercy.

The day she came home to Sylas Llewellyn, she had used the portal necklace he had made her. Using it to bring her immediately to him and at first she had no words. She stood in front of him, her hands tucked behind her as she knew how much dirty and death was under her nails and stained her hands. She didn’t dare reach for him, but instead took him in, how alive and safe he was. How unmarked by the ugliness that seemed to follow Dresmond.

She wasn’t sure if she could scrub herself hard enough that night or any of the following to feel clean. Had even hesitated to reach for Sylas, afraid that her touch might have suddenly been tainted. But he was the steadiness she needed, her light, and each morning she woke to him, it was a balm to her ache. Yet ambassador duties and studies called, and it was when she was alone, when she received the invite. Surprised, but wanting the distraction, she cleaned once again though she was already scrubbed clean, then dressed. Her usual Dresmondi wear, a lace off the shoulder top and a flower skirt made of patchwork fabric. While she rather be barefoot, she did wear sandals to keep more with the way of Arynn Frey.

Arriving, both of her dyr’s perched across her shoulders. Raiden on her left, Geb on her right as she took in Sylas’ aunt. “I’m sorry for being late,” though truthfully she wasn’t sure if she was late or not. Finding a seat across from the woman, she sank into the seat, all wild curls and a polite smile.