Paladin glanced downwards, her pain evident across her features. Hell was an apt name for it; she'd watched people die, only for them to rise from the grave. The body of Renn, the youngest of them all, burned in her thoughts, despite the fact that she was with them all once again. The half-elf took a moment to recover her senses before the rogue continued. She didn't realise that her hands were clasped together: her knuckles had gone white. 'People change,' she answered gently, 'but the process is a slow one. With Dain, you're watching a droplet fall across glass. I don't think she understands herself sometimes. 'Now that her father is gone, I... I know that she is probably lost. Now, more than ever.' Paladin pulled the chair to sit next to her old friend, placing a hand on his forearm lightly. 'If she isn't in Midgard, she will be heading back to Dal-Gren. Something is happening there.' Her look was that of concern. 'I think she's afraid of something.'