Dusk is settling on the camp, bringing with it the chill and the long, stark shadows of autumn.  Fallon's requisitioned tent is simple... just another piece of gear belonging to Rengard's company, suitable for sleeping or a small conversation, sewn from simple brown canvas and hoisted up by lean ash poles.  It's an extravagance to have a suitably tall tent for standing, the only excuse for which is as an officers' meeting table.  Fallon's gear-- along with own pup tent, still wound and tied-- clatters to the waxy canvas, its noise softened by the grass beneath.<br/><br/>Light trickles within through a couple of grommets, but until the flap is cast back it remains in pitch darkness within, and falls back into darkness when the daylight is again obscured by the cloth portal.  It rustles softly, still stiff with disuse, when the paladin enters, and as she surveys the room she lets out a soft breath of a laugh.  Clearly, it's more than she expected, though its a far cry from a down-stuffed bed and a nightstand.<br/><br/>She looks up to the door and, in the splash of daylight that spills through the opening, the girl's hair and fresh armor glitter like watersplash in a sunset.  She's begun untying a small braid from her fiery red hair, turning her delicate features in profile to the door and blinking rapidly to adjust to the contrast of light.  "Close the palace door, Senna," she says with a gently teasing smile, her eyes searching the artificer's movements with confidence and contentment.  "We've much to discuss."