Lydia listened to Shenyo, having learned that his intuition was nearly flawless as long as he wasn’t in the throes of battle. She climbed on top of the table to lend her slight weight to the weight of the table while he worked to craft a garment. She wove some magic through a spoken spell that caused a white mist to circle the garment. Every stitch he took glowed red as the thread when through the fabric to quickly return to a normal looking thread as it settled into place.<br/><br/>“I am doing my best to add protection into this garment. “She explained when she was finished with her spell. He didn’t look up from his work but she could tell he heard her and even acknowledged her intent. Lydia could not perform such a spell on herself because that would fall under the category of personal gain. Only her magic could be used to bless someone else, although on occasion her magic was used to defend herself. Only the thought of how went she rid the world of an evil that she was making it a safer place for others justified her actions.<br/><br/>Shenyo was remarkably nimble with the needle and thread. When Lydia  moved to help him, his tail lashed across her arm as if telling her to be patient and allow him to work. When the light in the room became dim, she held a ball of fire in her hand to illuminate the darkness for him. She wished there was more she could do to aid him. Lydia was not lazy but she was at a loss in this world. She was growing more and more attuned to Shenyo, depending on him to make decisions and to keep them safe. A nagging fear in the back of her mind suggested she was a liability for him, that her mortal fragility would get him killed soon.<br/><br/>“You must promise me, “ she said earnestly,” that you will never chose my life over your own. Do not risk yourself to save me. You must live to complete this battle.”<br/>