Aeryn squeaks when her hair is grabbed, being pulled closer to Xen is something she fights not at all. The wine... that is a bit of a surprise, a pleasant one. Aeryn pulls back slightly with flushed cheeks and dancing eyes.  Eyes that cut over to Morgan.<em>Morgan loves her, careful, careful, what are you stepping into here?</em>Emotional words, perhaps an overwrought expression of feeling after a desperate fight.  But perhaps not.<em>A barbarian elf.  I've never seen anyone like her.</em>Aeryn lifts a finger to wipe away a trace of wine from Xen's cheek, then wipes a similar streak from her own chin.  Indecision and heat  in her eyes, another flickering glance between the two elves.  A young elf, this barbarian.  The Druid is far more composed, mature.  The healer most likely has far more in common with the older elf.  But the restrained power she had felt when Xen had carried her to safety, well.  Well.  She swallows hard and backs away with visible reluctance.  She kicks off her sandals and says "Morgan, you need to recover your spells.  I'll stand watch while the two of you get some rest.  It's been a brutal day, in the morning I will meditate again to build back my own connections to my power."  She flips a quarrel out of her ammunition case, this one is noticeably different from the others,  It just looks like it has a more deadly air, if such a thing could be said to exist.  "If you think I should go to this fort, the village, I will do so.  But I may not choose to stay there."  She flips the quarrel again and lays it in her crossbows holding groove "Rest.  Morgan can relieve me when she is done meditating, then Xen can take watch.  If that is acceptable, of course."