Journey listened to the names given to her- Pyralis, Odyssey. They sounded ancient, from a world of kings and queens, gods and goddesses far from her own pantheon.

While they both seemed to drink in Journey's words quietly, it only seemed the soldier was still focused on this while the elder…. She spoke on now, seemingly quite concerned and perplexed about Journey and her own packmates instead of her own predicament.

Journey almost found it an insult on behalf of her own self that Evergreen suggested the possibility of an elder, blind woman following her from lands which she had traveled so frequently would have gone unnoticed. She was, after all, born here and professioned as a scout. This woman was new to these lands, by her questions, let alone the ability to quietly traverse them unnoticed. Maybe, in the end, she was simply a concerned elder thought to teach a young woman a lesser. Yet, as it were, Journey's true age was within the hundreds.

Journey's smile remains soft, even if it could not be seen. I'm afraid you've mistaken Northfall for one which lives cautiously of conflict. We are not. In fact, a good battle would likely be welcome. My family is viking. We want to be known. Want to be challenged. Journey didn't fear their defeat, either. A fight would only heighten their reputation. It would be a great honor for any of us to die in battle. Worthy of Valhalla. She pauses, realizing they may not know what Valhalla is. It would greatly appease our gods.

She waits a moment, for any retort. Then, she would move on to the original discussion. If there is a way which you can return at your own whim, I know not of it, but there are some which have been taken from us just as easily as they came. Her brother, her father’s first wife, for instance, though she didn't specify her own losses. Those who come here, it may be of any means. Simply traveling and walking through the veil, going to sleep and waking here, lost. Some taken during the heat of battle, still red with blood… Her eyes cast to Vehemens. Many, having died only to be reborn. Be it in their same form or another one entirely.

Humans, wolves, demons, gods or otherwise. Stripped of their fingers and homes. Stripped of their godly powers and magic. Torn from their bodies and forced into another against their will. The ways to be pulled into this world as though it were some great, magical black hole was endless. You could return, but it is not something you have the choice in.