Following the Elves as they lead the way Daria grips the chest best she can and begins to clumsily drag it. Closer and closer she drags the chest to the other party of Elves having to place the chest down a few times to readjust her grip or try a different method of transport. In the end dragging the chest works best couples with some grunts and sharp tugs to remove the sand mound she creates as she pulls the chest.<br/><br/>Joining the group a little after the others, the aforementioned survivors are in a worst condition than she expected and Daria soon buttons her lips to any complains about the task of lugging the chest on her own.  Dropping the chest down her own skills can provide little use in this situation as kind words would be merely wasted.<br/><br/>Leaning into Red she whispers with a hint of desperation in her voice. “Can your magic not help them?”<br/><br/>Anymore of her questions are broken by the call of more survivors. Straining to see their faint outlines in the distance she soon spots them in the waters. Moving forward she readies to break into a sprit before the fear of what her eyes see stops her in her tracks. Paralysed with a fear to move from the safety of land she stops and watches the whole thing unfold. As quickly as the survivors were spotted they were gone. All that is left is a feeling of dread as Daria steps back to sit on the chest and collect herself while offering to a silent prayer.<br/><br/>“Let’s just get those who survived to your camp.” She meekly murmurs staring hollowly into the sand’s at her feet.<br/>