A flicker of desperation fills the spirit's voice as she senses the suspicions of the group turning upon her, Odvara's fingers fidgeting as if she is struggling to remember - or conceal - something. "The talisman is from - was from father. He had a mage who served him, a lecherous old man skilled in beguiling minds. He laid eyes upon me," she says, casting her plaintive white eyes at Elora. "Father said the talisman would keep the old mage from charming me. Yes, father said, father wouldn't lie." There was a distinct need in the spirit's voice, but a need for what?
"Well, I suppose the others want to sleep away your time here but I will not leave you." There was something in Elora keeping her curiosity peaked, something that warned her of danger and something that also made her heart hurt at this poor spirit's fate. In addition she was not about to leave Odvara's body to the spirits whims. She came here to help someone like her, and she planned on keeping that vow. "It shouldn't matter if the Talisman is found tonight or tomorrow. But what kind of protections will my friend Fergus have once you are back in the Lake? Will you be able to guide him to it? Or protect him from other dangers that might be down there?" She didn't much care about the answers at this point, she just wanted to keep the spirit talking.
As he held the blade by the firelight he noticed Kynee's attention fixated on the blade. Knowing the lithe witcher would put the blade to good use, Darius nods to Kynee and holds out the blade.
"Behold," declaimed Talashia melodramatically on seeing the hamlet before them. "The wondrous...hovel...of Posada. Jewel in a very, very...pathetic crown." She sighed and added, "Even so, it will be nice to have a bed tonight. The night sky is pretty, but a little sleeping on the ground goes a looooooooong way."