Danica stands in the back of the delegation, her crossbow in hand, having cast
Mage Armor over herself before leaving the protection of the dwarven fortress. Her spell was cast covertly, as with all her previous magics, and she is conscious that she has revealed too much for herself. Her confession to her powers has cost her the trust of her allies, it seems, andwith no benefit to be gained. Shehad thought her plan was worht pursuing, but as soon as it was spoken, it seems to have been passed over without even an acknowledgement as it was rejected.
Danica is sullen, her lips pouting subconsciously, as she stands looking at those in Nefius' delegation. But she has a job, at least for now, for Dorinthia. She eyes them up, looking to assess which one of them presents the greatest physical threat, and which one of them is the most heavily armoured.
It aches whenever she thinks of her confession, and wonders if Lord Dartis will ever have a real use for her. As a crossbowman, she had a purpose. As a messenger, she had a purpose. As a sorcerer? She feels she has been a traitor to the cause, --no that's not right, but she fears it is how she is seen now -- the cause for which she has fought. But where could she go, she wonders to herself.