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"...And now, we wait for the misty season," Durant advises, as he gets off his steed and pulling her by the reins; he walks past Milanor and the others. The knight perches himself on the craggy surface of a nearby pile of rocks, and lovingly scratching his horse's chin.
Milanor turns, raising a brow his way. Roswell's motions follow suit, and Nietzsche is oblivious.
"And how long's that gonna be?" It was Milanor who asked.
"At best, a least a few days. At worst, however, it may take several weeks." Durant explains, with Milanor being attentive. "I suggest you prepare yourselves for the time being, and go moment the opportunity to swiftly move is within our favour, Esquire Milanor."
"Fair point," Milanor shrugs, muttering under his breath as he does. Hauling the handles of the Silver Moon on his back, the wolf-thief makes slight whistles as he rhythmically trots to somewhere distant, cushioning himself against the rocks for a makeshift napping spot, and the young Undine with him. Who knows wherever Roswell went to, but Durant reckons the necromancer can't be that far.
Among everyone within their ranks that remained, all that's left is...
"Princess Yggdra," the knight addresses his liege, remembering to stand upright and bow in her presence; she stood silently, what once was her clean, pristine white skirt was caked in dirt and mud and blood of their adversaries—a shame, really, Durant recalls that this particular dress was her favorite.
"At ease, Durant," Yggdra reassures her guardsman as she frowns at his curt formality. "There's no need to be so uptight with me..."
"My sincerest apologies, I shall do my best to keep that in mind."
Yggdra frowns at Durant's behavior, it's the antithesis of what she's getting at; but, nevermind it—she walks to him, dragging the Gran Centurio by her side.
But afterwards? Both the Princess and knight are speechless, they aren't exactly good at small talk.
Though Durant turns to Yggdra with widening eyes after.
"...Ah, Princess, your hair tie fell off."
"Oh! My apologies!" Yggdra frets, fumbling with her hair. "Please give me a moment-"
"Let me," Durant insists as his fingers comb through Yggdra's blonde hair, her heart skips a beat at his gentle brushing; he fixed her hair as swiftly as he noticed it becoming disheveled. A meek thank you is all Yggdra could muster, and he smiles in turn.