Elemmire paused only to give Leir a long look - half disbelieving that anyone would want to think that she here in the blasted weather for any other reasons than to aid them.
"Ithacles sent me." She answered shortly, echoing Skandra as her eyes followed him as he lumbered away, muttering to himself and the air.
"There's a change of clothing in the back but but I would recommend staying low in the wagon till we get to the temple." Her purpose was to get them out of the city in one piece and from then, maybe something else. With her eyes still on Skandra, her body turned slightly to watch him stand over a particular corpse among the milleu of others.
Elemmire watched him as wave a hand as though he was trying to commune with the dead - she would have called out to him, her lips forming his name but no sound emitting.
Death. How would one dealt with it? Elemmire had danced with it before - come so close to it on the forest floor of Ellecdral but yet survived at a price. Sometimes, she wondered what things might have changed had she not survived. The elf reached up to grip the reins tightly, as though in response to the memory of ensuing numbness creeping and growing coldness spread across her limbs again when she fell from that fight. No. She remembered no fear nor happiness at the end. No beckoning warm light at the end of the tunnel but only numbing darkness and strange relief - that all was done and over.
"He's better off where he is." She muttered in the vague direction of Skandra without meeting his eyes and pulling her cloak tightly to herself. Whoever the 'He' she meant. Glancing back to Leir as the wagon lurch to Skandra's additional weight, she offered only a mask of glacial blandness, "Are you coming?"