A young girl who looks maaaaaybe twelve or thirteen, with a cascade of dark ringlets trying to escape her hair-tie, slips forward and smiles brightly at Vanyel and Tylendel. "We need you to get on Yfandes again to go somewhere else. It's not very far." 

Mrrghhh owww okay he can do this. He is definitely capable of standing up. ...Maybe with lots of help. Ow ow ow ow. 

Yfandes kneels so Vanyel can more easily be helped onto her back, and then prompts Shavri and Tylendel to each take a side and help him stay on. Gala, in the adjacent stall since this one has no room for her, ambles after them. 

:Thank you SO much for this: Gemma tells Vetareh, emphatically. :It did him good, he's in better shape than he was when I first saw him - the pain was keeping him shocky, he really needed the break from it. You're a miracle worker: 

Vetareh steps over to take Vanyel’s hand and do the damnable, awful, boring, despicable, and overall detestable Blackout spell chain. Because there’s really no reason not to, her vigil is almost fucking over. No reason to fall apart when she can see the end in sight.

She smiles tiredly at lady-in-green, and gives a little nod. Catching all of those foreign concepts without her magic to do it for her is, uh, hard. But she got the gist of it. Probably.

Yfandes conveys them to the newly-modified Work Room, where Kilchas has carefully knocked out several rows of stones both above and on either side of the previous door and then doorframed the new door, which is a very rough installation of boards nailed together but will keep out the elements. 

There's a fold-out cot inside the bare stone room, and Vanyel can be helped down and deposited there. Yfandes indicates to Vetareh that she can stop magic-blocking him now. 

Yesssssss freedom yessssssssssssss. She’s so relieved she might cry. ... like, actually cry. Uh. Hm.

:Yes hello for my fantastic feats of brilliance and also magic, I would like payment of a very particular kind. Somebody fucking hug me that sucked so much. I may or may not cry on the hugger, no promises:

Shavri will totally give her a hug! 

Shavri is performing a very important service and she is getting so so hugged. So hugged. Just, scooped and then hugged.

Vetareh needs a minute to hug and take some long shuddering breaths, and do a little bit of crying. That sucked, that sucked, that sucked, that sucked, aaa!!! That sucked so much!! It was kind of like rehashing all of her still open and bleeding Mist-related traumas all over again, except self inflicted this time, and she doesn't even get to walk around! aaa!!!!!!! Terrible!! Worth it and she'd have regretted it if she didn't stick to it because, well, she's kind of a madwoman sometimes, but terrible!

...

Okay, okay, she's fine. Or, well. She's not, but she's going to go to bed because she is so gods-damned tired. She needs sleep. She gives the little pre-teen/teenager a final squeeze, pulls away to wipe at her eyes and pretend there were no tears at all, to speak of, and then announces:

:If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed now. Next weird magic problem you all get to solve in-house, I'm not coming out until I'm ready unless your monarch's about to get assassinated or something. Even then, only if I like them, so I'd better get a nice gift basket:

She's kind of joking, but also kind of not. The part about the gift basket is definitely not serious, but everything else: yeah uh, actually just leave her alone this time, she is so tired. So tired. They do not even know how long her day has been. When they find out they're going to be so horrified. So, so horrified. She wants to save the surprise for later, when she's less tired, but: look forward to that, everybody. Longest day award goes to her.

:Sleep well!: Shavri says brightly. :Thank you so much!:

(Shavri does not have the best grasp of sarcasm and is already mentally planning what she's going to put in the gift basket that is definitely getting delivered to Vetareh as soon as this endless night is over and she has time to make it.) 

Vanyel obediently swallows painkillers and then tries to sleep despite the ow ow ow. 

Poor Vanyel, but plausibly he’ll have a better time of it with painkillers than mathematically-predictable-but-still-not-immediately-obvious intervals of agony. Dwayna’s kindness upon you during your recovery, you poor person-conduit, you.

Bed! Bed bed bed bed she does not literally run back to her guest room, but she does cheerfully wave and walk back there very quickly. And then she’s sleeping. She’s so tired. Dumb day, she wants another. Blegh.

Herald Savil Ashkevron would agree that his has been both the longest and the dumbest day she remembers, possibly in her entire life. 

By sunrise, though, she and her poor exhausted mage-students have cleared the forest of wyrsa, and have a drugged, thoroughly tied-up mage in captivity. Savil is pretty sure she's more powerful than Krebain, but has no desire to test it, so it's kind of a relief that he's seriously injured and the Healer on site was willing to give him extra pain drugs with the added bonus of keeping him too groggy to do magic. Oh, plus a captive Evan Leshara, but he's no threat. Anymore. Once he's prevented from using his too-convincing tongue to hire foreign mages and send them on murder and kidnapping missions. 

(Savil is filled with simmering fury. It's the only thing keeping her going at this point.) 

She's very tired, which makes Gating back not the best idea she's ever had, but staying here with their prisoner isn't the best idea either. So she leaves Tantras on site to handle the understandably freaked-out locals, and she raises a Gate back to the Heralds' Temple and practically falls through on her face. 

Mardic helps her up and, while Donni explains the situation to a worried Jaysen, they haul Savil back to her suite. 

No, her bedroom, where are Van and 'Lendel - they're not in their room... 

"They're in your Work Room. Van, er, picked up some Gifts." Jaysen purses his lips about this, faintly disapproving. "Very out of control ones." 

Then Savil is going to go collapse on her face there, with her nephew and her student. She refuses to be dissuaded from this plan. 

Once she's laid eyes on both of them, currently asleep with their Companions taking up most of the spare floorspace, it takes her about thirty seconds to pass out on the narrow strip of available stone floor. 

Today was stupid and it's technically tomorrow, now, but Savil isn't having it. Tomorrow will be after she's slept and it had goddamned better be an improvement. 

Vetareh would say hear, hear if she were listening to Savil's thoughts, and also awake. She's neither, of course. But in theory, Savil has an ally in it not being tomorrow yet, and furthermore tomorrow needing to be better, or else.

When the strange woman wakes up, she grumbles a groan in the back of her throat and takes a minute to tell morning to go away. Eventually, it continues to not go away, and she grumpily sits up. Yeah, she's not social yet. Not at all. However, she should nonetheless get food. Which is a risky proposition and might get her entangled in whatever latest clusterfuck may or may not be happening outside her guest room. Mrggh. Can she be scary enough to get people to leave her alone, even though she's new and interesting and shiny? ... Yes, absolutely. She's still at least half made out of spite. Possibly more. That makes being scary very easy. Okay then.

She drinks the rest of her water, then gets dressed, grabs her dishes, and ventures into the great outside to see about getting fed.

Outside appears to be about noon (she went to bed very late), and soggy, and still occasionally drizzling. 

A lanky teenage girl in exercise clothes is doing some sort of warm-up form exercises with a sword in the garden just outside the hall of guest rooms. She stops. Waves.

"...Do you by any chance know a Vanyel?" she asks after a moment. (The name is, of course, the only part of it that Vetareh will understand.) 

She’s immediately suspicious of this person, but. Okay. She’ll try to be helpful. She guesses. Even though she hates everything and everyone right now.

“Vanyel,” she agrees, nodding. The way she pronounces the name is strange. Then she says a short sentence in an extremely foreign language. (“I continue to be the most foreign.”)

She sure looks foreign. Lissa gamely bobs her head. "Vanyel," she says again, and mimes walking with her fingers over one palm, then makes a questioning face. 

Okay, sure, she can lead this person to Vanyel. She hooks a finger to indicate that this person should follow her, and then turns and starts walking to the Work Room.

She just failed step one of not getting involved, but. Look, she really is just here to get food.

"...Herald-Mage Savil," Lissa says faintly, when they reach the Work Room and a bleary Savil lets them in. "Van...?"