Lioriley had been watching the roster since the rescue missions had begun, making sure to track any changes — disappearances, appearances, changes in color from the standard four to gold. The marker beside Elidibus' name was not as foreign a symbol as one could hope someone so new would know; she had already seen it once before after the incident with Malekith aboard the previous platform.
She did not know him well, of course, but their previous discussion had been pleasant enough and even if it hadn't the heaviness in her chest still would have weighed her down. He had died out there — and she could only hope that it was not alone and calling for help. But death never was so kind, was it?
She checked, then; scouting the luggage compartment much as she had when the Svartálfar had died and been subsequently returned to the train, hoping to find a sign of life instead of the empty air and closed luggage. On that first trip, she did not find it, and with her self imposed duties to tend to - she could not linger for longer than a few moments before rushing off again, intending to return as soon as she was able.
Maybe it was pure luck (of which she usually lacked in the good variety), or maybe the train knew somehow that she was looking. Whatever the case, the Lunari had arrived back at the luggage area to hear the soft thud of the suitcase; the sound of it unzipping, and the familiar voice questioning nothing - or what he probably assumed to be nothing at the time. But Lioriley was standing there, wide-eyed, coiled lines of magic along her skin pulsing rapidly with her ever increasing heartbeat. How the train did such a thing was beyond her, but she could not help but be grateful for it when people returned whole and mostly unchanged from the jaws of death.
"Elidibus." She called softly, finally composing herself long enough to hurry over to him, hands outstretched to set gently upon an arm if he did not pull from it. "You are back. Are you...all right?" There was a hesitation, because she already knew the obvious answer, even if he did not say it. No one was just all right after they died, surely.
no subject
She did not know him well, of course, but their previous discussion had been pleasant enough and even if it hadn't the heaviness in her chest still would have weighed her down. He had died out there — and she could only hope that it was not alone and calling for help. But death never was so kind, was it?
She checked, then; scouting the luggage compartment much as she had when the Svartálfar had died and been subsequently returned to the train, hoping to find a sign of life instead of the empty air and closed luggage. On that first trip, she did not find it, and with her self imposed duties to tend to - she could not linger for longer than a few moments before rushing off again, intending to return as soon as she was able.
Maybe it was pure luck (of which she usually lacked in the good variety), or maybe the train knew somehow that she was looking. Whatever the case, the Lunari had arrived back at the luggage area to hear the soft thud of the suitcase; the sound of it unzipping, and the familiar voice questioning nothing - or what he probably assumed to be nothing at the time. But Lioriley was standing there, wide-eyed, coiled lines of magic along her skin pulsing rapidly with her ever increasing heartbeat. How the train did such a thing was beyond her, but she could not help but be grateful for it when people returned whole and mostly unchanged from the jaws of death.
"Elidibus." She called softly, finally composing herself long enough to hurry over to him, hands outstretched to set gently upon an arm if he did not pull from it. "You are back. Are you...all right?" There was a hesitation, because she already knew the obvious answer, even if he did not say it. No one was just all right after they died, surely.