She looked over the face of the man that knew her brother's name without even having her say anything, and she saw no malice, no intent to do anything that she'd suffered before and she relaxed a little, having had her shoulders drawn up to near her ears before. She cricked her neck and leaned into him, before being teleported. Of course, she wasn't used to that, like he said. In fact, she felt a little like passing out. She lost her sense of balance and clung to him for support. Michelle was incredibly light, and quickly compensated for her near-fall by standing straight up and brushing her hands on her jeans. "Sorry. Ew, yeah, now I know what you mean. That sucked." She looked around and realized that wherever they were before, they were far, far away from it now. The climate was completely different - it was like going from Seattle to the dusty clump of valley she lived in, in reverse. She kept her thick jacket zipped, though. She didn't know what she was wearing under it, and decided she'd rather not find out, even if they WERE in a swamp.
Meanwhile, Artan was pacing the main foyer of the Guildhall. Miniver had called him and told him he was bringing her there. Of course, Artan had seen the post immediately, and couldn't bear to write to her. He knew who she was. He hadn't forgotten her at all. And he was mostly scared that she was angry at him, that she blamed HIM for what happened. He had sent Henri to bed, and shooed Sands off to some part of the house that Sands wouldn't be a bother. And now, he was doing his damndest to wear a groove in the foyer's floor.