After their flight from the flaring nightmare of skyline-rending energy, the drow lands on her feet like a cat finally released after a thorough tousling.  She doesn't go so far as to start grooming herself as if nothing's happened, but she does stare at the monk and stand stone-still, her bow still clutched in a death grip in her hand.  Ithi'Ka blinks back at Kasumi, her silvery eyes shining with mortification-- she brushes off that humiliation, blaming it on the light wreaking havoc with her vision.  Staring imploringly at the monk, a mist of dried blood glints faintly against her dark gray skin in the moonlight.<br/><br/>She knows she would not have made that distance in time... the first blast was still ringing in her mind, thrumming in her ears.  And, funny... it's as if, for that moment, she can almost hear the screams of those behind, flaring like flash-paper and then vaporized into nothing...<br/><br/>Ithi'Ka forces a shrug and rubs her temples, squinting into her palm, then straightens.  She locks eyes with the human, considering what she's said.  She prepares to retaliate with bravado and arrogance at the notion she should need a disguise, but bites it back.  "Your words are kind.  You fought very well."  She lifts her thin, arched white eyebrows as she says this, smiling with something like tenderness.  She accepts the hat, prepares to activate it, turns it in her hands as if in consideration. "But it's nice to see you with no disguise," she says softly, the last word serpentine and rhytmic in her careful pronounciation, before she flashes a smile that is eerily pretty, considering the source.<br/><br/>Donning the hat, her appearance shifts subtly... combined with the inky shadow that seems to seep from her dreamserpent-scale armor, the young Drow suddenly adopts the aspect of a mourning pauper.  "I follow," she says softly, bustling with her haversack to store and adjust every item she can manage to stash out of sight.