His own small nod satisfies her. By this point she believes she knows him well enough that he can be expected to honor this informal agreement.

He searches for an ideal spot, she can tell, and despite her reluctance to be doing this at all she would be lying if she claimed she was not intrigued. While his magic complements her own, they are not the same. Her own experience leads her to think that ending the bleakness around them should require either the permanent removal of whatever caused it -- a hunt if need be -- or perhaps the help of a specific ritual, which is certain to exist even though she has no personal offhand knowledge of one. What he gathers on the way suggests the latter. A type of creation magic, perhaps, and that has never been her strongest suit, many of her talents more destructive. She is so deep in possibilities, half-alert for potential threats, that she almost fails to notice the moonlit beauty of the spot before he speaks again.

But then she smiles, just a bit, golden eyes glittering in the pale light as she tips her head up toward the moon. It was in solitary spots like this that as a child she earned her mother's teasing about dancing in the moonlight, certain that no one was watching but not caring if someone was and feeling filled to the brim with her own power.

"A fitting location," she responds, approval earned. "Show me what you have in mind."