The drow would thank the changeling for giving her some trail rations to sate her arcane-fueled hunger. Leading the party with Lang's valued assistance to the temple, the drow would look at all the plants with obvious curiosity, having grown tired as they walked onto the temple grounds. The drow would allow lang to speak, though she would get rather hung up on the idea of fertility magic.<br/><br/>The drow would think back to her dream as she looks down to her own thin, toned midsection. She had ached to be with child after the dream, the dark elf's womb calling to be filled. Perhaps she could frame it as an innocent accident, sleep in a field of magically fertilized wheat, only to wake up with a small brood growing in her womb... The drow wanted this beyond anything, to establish her matriarchal line that was sent away from its home. To bear the heirs of her homeland, beautiful princes and princesses in her womb... The drow would be in obvious thought as she listened to the priest confirm the scope of the attack that brought them here.