Maybe it's just one of those human (or... what can you call it when you know there's a million species out there, some distinctly not human) things — the ability to find a way to celebrate and come together even when everything around them is falling apart. To act like nothing's wrong even when it so blatantly is.

She has no idea, and honestly, it's a little galling if she thinks too hard. Here they are, being asked to play house and treat Camelot like their home, while their real homes hang in the balance.

And it's with that thought that she enters the circle, giving a wordless look to Red Wine as they sit down. This is going to be a pain in the ass, but at least it could smell worse than burning herbs, really.

It's the little things.

Put your hands together and focus on the source of your pain — another look, just as sceptical as the first, but this time there's something more behind it. A hesitancy, a softness to the edges and a press of her lips together.

The source, huh? The voice in the mirror that reminded her of all the ways she's useless, the way she so easily went to turn tail and avoid it, so eager and willing to forget the way her brother's life hangs in the balance of this whole Avalonian clusterfuck, a hostage to the threat they're supposed to be fixing.

Those things come to mind.