The Reaper smiled and nodded, "I will hold you to your word, Daughter of Jain Zar!" As the Banshee left the corridor, Razauil turned towards the newest member of the Strikeforce. "The Warp Spider died like a hero, being ran over by a Chaos Terminator. I'm sure someone took her soulstone with him, but Caerys would know more about these things."
"Intersting. This should be a intersting picture to make." She said already thoughts about how to draw her deceased friend
Jyraielle returned to her room and took a deep breath, checking that the place was secure as the last act of the War-Self. The Scorpion detected no need for especial vigilance. She lit incense and stood in prayer for a moment, thanking Khaine for coming through the inferno of battle without dishonouring her weapons or her armour which were, after all, only lent from her Shrine. Beginning with the helmet, she took off her armour piece by piece, staring down at the yellow eye lenses of the faceplate. They twinkled brightly as if the helm itself were alive with more than custom and ritual. Jyraielle shivered. She cleaned her wargear and tended to anything that needed repair and maintenance, wondering if there were a Bonesinger who might attend to the small nicks and scrapes. Nothing dangerously damaged, but she wished to keep her armour with the same care that she did her body. On that score she had some minor hurts to fix, but she could go to the infirmary after she had showered away the sweat of battle. That done she dressed in a flowing silk shirt and a soft blouse, each a different shade of ochre, and let her red-brown hair hang freely. She picked up her drawing tablet, some styli, and - because this was a warship - her shuriken pistol, and wandered barefoot to the infirmary, enjoying the sensation of the smooth floor under her feet, and the faint breeze of the aircon. It wasn't as good as the surface of a planet with the wind in her hair, but it would do for now. Jyraielle entered the infirmary and found a duty Healer to check her wounds. As she'd suspected they were superficial, and she was given some minor attention to speed them on their way to repairing fully. Released from their care, she went to the mess hall to eat. She collected some plain water to drink - enjoying the sparkle of it in its crystal decanter - bread, butter, soft cheese, small fruits and a knife, and busied herself making overly complicated sandwiches out of everything. After a fight like that, with adrenaline rampaging through her system, she was ravenous and needed to ground herself. Then the events of the day would begin to process. She might do some drawing, or seek out the Warlock, Aithras, to see if he would share some of hie expertise in field first aid. For now though, food. [OOC *om nom nom* ]
"Well then, it would appear that all that needed to be said has come and gone. I would assume that we are all a bit deprived of energy after that last mission, and most of us are likely to seek the comfort of a nice meal or a relaxing bed. I'd rather enjoy the sanctuary of the my own quarters but seeing as I'm a proper gentleman, leaving you here alone would be unmannerly on my part." Airthas extended his organic armed as a gesture for the Farseer to take it. "You wouldn't mind doing an old Warlock the honor of being an escort for such a lovely Eldar such as yourself, would you Caerys?"
"And where do exactly do you plan to escort me?" Caerys asked, chuckling quietly at the warlock's offer.
"Because your shine is so bright, it enlightened my life even into my very past to make me a better Eldar." Zu'ark said with a bright smile.
"Than let us not waste another moment standing here. Those scrolls are not going to put away themselves." He spoke in a humored tone, chuckling mildly after finishing his sentence.
