She does not move with ease, only in the sense that tension is slowly ascending her spine. By all apparances Herian is a a rolling cloud giving human form. Some might think her ominous, others might approve. It is the motion of potential and changeability. Herian is a storm and a summer day.

At the first chance she had, when all duty was fulfilled to a point to survive her own interrogation, she seeks out the healing tents again, and asks for the Enchanter; the Councilor, now.

There is the knock of knuckes on wood, and she steels herself, seeing a familiar back. The last time she'd seen her--

"Enchanter LeBlanc." Breathe. Remember. "Please forgive my-- abrupt intrusion."