Celeste didn't seem to acknowledge the Protector nor Savern's eyes against her back, unclasping her cloak to rest it over the she-Reaper's shoulders, nodding slightly, either in reassurance or agreement, before standing up, her own form now exposed to the wintry kiss of snow. Nevertheless, the stoic Arch-Watcher didn't seem bothered and appeared even relieved at her actions, her skin seeming as if it belonged to the white plains, rather than away from it. She hadn't realised how hard she had been biting her lip until she tasted the bitter-sweetness of blood across her tongue. Swallowing, she beckoned the whimpering girl to stand before she turned away, beginning to make her way through the cold fields. She paused, finally glancing up to stare blankly at Savern, as if he had only just come into view. She made no reaction, gave nothing away before look at Snow, curiosity brimming in her eyes. She raised an eyebrow slightly. She had been listening. 'The One Who Wields.' She snorted soundlessly. Of course. She looked away, shaking her head. With a Reaper attached to this unwilling baggage, who knew what the disasters were going to be? 'Move,' she muttered darkly.