Kiernan frowned slightly as Numira affirmed that she wasn't sure how Ixera knew her. Perhaps that woman was someone to be wary of, after all. Yet, she had helped Numira out... Rubbing his neck again, his eyes trailed along the equipment present in the medical area here. Much of his surroundings seemed otherworldly to him. Just standing in the Iskander made him a bit wary, to begin with. "Maybe it's a coincidence, then." He brushed the topic off for now, but that didn't stop his mind from wandering. What all had Ixera gone on about earlier? There were guards involved, Numira was foolish to leave. Still, he felt quite out of the loop. Blinking and stirring form his thoughts as Hecate brought Numira her meal, his gaze moved over the food suspiciously. It smelled perfectly appetizing, but the look seemed just wrong. His eyebrows scrunched slightly. "This is... What you eat on Kiranes?" He questioned, gaze locking on her glowing drink in particular. Kiernan would've undoubtedly shied away from such a liquid.

His eyebrows knitted together with a mixture of confusion and worry as she mentioned Shilf, and wishing to further protect others. It was a concept he understood, and he did not seek to hold her back, but not she seemed to have a name for them. Machines? She was familiar with this... technology? Frowning slightly, he left out a soft sigh at her question. "The vast majority of the city was able to flee. Zed distracted the giant... machines, and Cara gave them a bit of a road block so that we may run, too. We rode to the next town inland, Thirsten, and briefly stayed with a friend of Cara's while Zed traveled back here for Ixera's assistance. In the morning, we three traveled back here with him and Ixera." He explained calmly enough, though he yet struggled to wrap his mind around all of it. "You are familiar with those... things that attacked?" Kiernan mentioned after a moment, gaze drawing to her with a mixture of curiosity and an ounce of wariness. Whatever they had been, such destructive weapons should not exist.

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Veila felt her muscles clench and shift uncomfortably under the weight of Ixera's words. So, she was here to watch them work? Like a play thing, indeed. However, her anger from this statement was all but swept out from under her as the vision of the little boy appeared at her side. "X-Xander..." Veila murmured, staring in awe at the face of her little brother. Her thoughts of him returned to her in full swing, the grasses and springtime blooms of Draskone clouding her vision and sense of smell as she was swept under by this image of him. Memories of running through the fields with him at her heels, past the grounds of her family's small farm, no one else in sight, passed her by. Suddenly she wasn't wearing a golem-- she was in but a simple cotton dress, grass-stained without a care in the world. "Xander!" She cried, taking a stride towards the figure as lightening entered her vision, striking out at the little boy. Hot tears streamed from her eyes as anger welled within her chest, but this pain of loss was all too familiar. Oliver was already dead. The startling realization hit her as she moved, already poised to attack Benoit, but something in her stance shifted as she came to.

Oliver wasn't here, Benoit hadn't seen him, and she needed to take him out now. "Wait! Wake up!" Veila yelled, stepping in between the ground troops and Benoit as he began to fire at seemingly random locations. She darted towards him, one blade pointed in his direction as she neared. The point was no longer to cut him, though, but to stop his attacks. Fire spread wildly from the tip of her blade in his direction, encircling him and roaring high as within her golem, Veila struggled to stem her flow of tears. Oliver was gone, she was not in the fields of Draskone, and they were not at peace any longer. She may still be seeing Draskone, but her thoughts had shifted to her purpose here and now. It was an internal struggle against her desires to relive her old life, but it was one she was determined to fight. Veila couldn't have her old life back.

Commander Arnoult stood by with a relatively calmed, blank expression. It was an abnormal expression for the man unless in peculiar combat scenarios, which this indeed was of its own sort. His eyes skimmed along the motions of Veila and Ixera as the latter seemed to dance about the rest of them in a rather carefree manner. His gaze narrowed in on her. Even so, as she dissipated, his gaze wandered about slowly, as if yet attempting to trace her form. Her voice flittered through the air seemingly evenly, his mind in some sort of... haze... As he was addressed, his gaze slid to find the woman's form now before him. "Handful, he is. What a punk." Arnoult spoke in a smooth, low voice, purple gaze glazed over with some sort of cold amusement. Then, a smile returned to his face. It was a wicked, curled thing on his lips, a cold yet curious gleam in his purple gaze. "Ahh? Calm?" He then questioned as if thoughtfully, one of his fingers rising to tap his chin as a swirl of purple aura circled his other arm. The sleeve hanging about it was already shredded to mere bits from earlier, but with this new surge of power, the fabric remaining there further scorched and ripped away as the hand itself morphed. A blade-like structure protruded from where his hand had been, the skin and flesh of it itself disintegrating.

"Consider me a bored soldier." He finished with a devious grin on his face. Yet, he made no move to attack. Arnoult's gaze instead remained focused on her, the same aura flaring up around his arm, enlarging slowly.

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