Elegy for the Damned seemed little incline to engage with the other deathknights or their demonic tag-along during the trip, spending most of her time alone somewhere--Neverborn alone know where--in the dark recesses of the vessel.  Meditating, perhaps.  Intermittently, she emerges and finds her way out onto the hull of the vessel with little warning, stirring up thunderstorms rather unnatural to the death-choked air of the Underworld as she hones her chosen art.  The roaring winds, thunderous reports, and flashes of supernatural lightning never last for very long; whatever sort of training she's doing, the intensity seems to be far greater than the duration.<br/><br/>At the least, while indifferent and withdrawn, she is agreeable in her way: when pressed for assistance planning the mission or asked to play some part in it, she responds only with some variation on the phrase, "Tell me what you want me to do."  Though it makes the already vanishingly short windows in which she's out in the open and thus available to plan with even briefer--and she certainly doesn't seem to be forthcoming with any initiative on making or modifying the plan--she offers no arguments to reasonable suggestions or requests, whether the other Abyssals coach their inquiries with honeyed words and bartering, or present them haughtily as commands.