Dagavia had lingered cautiously, as always, on the opposite of the group and whoever spoke to them, sometimes seeming as if she would literally hide in the shadow of another in their party. She grasped the reality and the potential of what they would be doing just as clearly as Calamity and Brannon, and realized she'd abandoned her usual manipulation of her knuckle-bone charm pouch. Instead, she'd grasped her forearm with the opposite hand, fingernails digging into her skin, the subtle jolt of pain more soothing even than the charm.<br/><br/>She had nothing to say. There wasn't anything to say, really. They would go and see what they would see, and possibly return. She wasn't foolish, however. She would look at what equipment this Commissar was offering, and take what might help make that return more likely.