As Cosima leans against her, Herian wraps her arm around her, thumb gently rubbing the crest of Cosima's shoulder. The more she thinks about how Cosima's illness might not be cured or managed at home, how much she relies on magic, the more she is thankful for the gifted magical healers they have amongst the Inquisition ranks. Magic healing was not, generally speaking, readily available, and it makes a quiet anxiety twist in her gut that she tries to press back.

A flicker of a smile, though, at the kiss. "It would be a sorry day if you were waiting for an opportunity to escape my clutches," she replies, faintly dramatised.

She pauses for a second, before going on. "When I think of being in the Circle, and I remember that what we have would be forbidden, and that if the Circles still stood, we may never have met..." Herian sighs, and shakes her head. "I have so resolutely called myself a Loyalist for so long, but I wonder if I am lying to myself on that count."

It seems silly, though, and she clears her throat, and tilts her head to kiss Cosima's temple. "I love you." Quiet, a reminder, even if it's unnecessary.