<em>Previously hidden by the blurring effect surrounding her, the elf, Celie can see now, is fairly badly hurt, bloodied all over, though some of the wounds appear to already have been healed by the aasimar priestess during the fight. Her shoulder, her side, the outside of her thigh, all bear the marks of of the battle, and though the perspiration shines against her pale skin, the color of white moonlight on a clear night. A startling, steely dark gaze comes from the warrioress, who, slowly moving out of her crouched fighting stance, sheathes her katana, appraising the newcomer warily, though she offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. Her clothes, knee-high black leather boots and breeches with a loose, crimson peasant's blouse, though the workmanship reveals it to be anything but cheap, hardly mark her as a warrior,  the elaborate elven bracers and the blade she weilds the only evidence of the truth of the deadliness of the slim swordswoman.<br/><br/>"I'm Rhiannon Nightbreeze."<br/><br/>The emerald gaze of her tiefling ally, however, is more neutral, passing over Celie once, half warily and offering a single nod to the ranger. Her voice is soft, and surprisingly pretty, with a fluidness about it, something that assures Celie she'd have a silver tongue, should she ever care to use it.<br/><br/>"Alecto."<br/><br/>She, at least, seems to be fairly confident that Celie is their ally, and isn't particularly interested in  before looking over to her aasimar friend, who, while wounded as badly as her companions, looks up brightly at the tall, exotic, winged beauty with wide eyes, almost pouncing at Celie. Her hands immediately run over the feathered wings, and she almost seems to nuzzle into them. Alecto coughs a little, her look at Celie half-amused, now, half-jealous, and the pretty little priestess squeaks and jumps back, her cheeks gaining a distinct red tint.<br/><br/>"Erm... Sorry... I... um... Hi, I'm Alise. Thanks for the assist."</em>