She's doing her best, ( gwenaëlle says, distracted and damning beleth with faint praise—her dissatisfaction with the manner in which this has all been handled is not hard to guess, but she isn't of a mind to linger on it when she's with him, when the thing in which she's no faith is their ability to keep him alive. he's older than orlais, how on earth is she supposed to be prepared to outlive him? she isn't. they absolutely have to get their shit together, because she pragmatically prepares for the alternative with everyone else but she cannot comprehend—

she trusts him no less looking upon the truth of him, but it lays starkly bare how far from untouchable he is, after all. )

So am I, ( a little more wryly, quiet. her best doesn't feel like anything near enough. ) Not that there's much I can do about anything, wrangle our new Tevene friends a little—