Senna is busy thinking all that morning. She never contributed to Gorion's last rest, short of a small prayer at the wrong place. She feels incredibly guilty and worse for wear, but being a junior glyphscribe, she never really contributed to the last rites of anyone. Yes, there were whole libraries dedicated to requiems, literature about the afterworlds and even getting people back. But she was not one to wield such powers, even though she feels she has unraveled a bit more of the divine metatext for her own being.

As her group meets these peculiar wanderers, something feels off, but Senna cannot quite put her finger on it. We thank you kindly for your offer, mister. But don't you think you need these more than we do for our wounds are not physical; and we are blessed by the gods and nature itself. Senna keeps her distance, even if just to be able to watch both wanderers at the same time. The halfling scares me. she whispers to the group.