The meeting had past. Tempers had calmed, she hoped, considering how heated the entire situation had gotten. Days had wandered by, the same as they always had been but with the one thought that was no doubt hanging in the back of everyone's minds: they could not leave. Jezanna had felt a pang when she heard those words, a constricting around her, but she did not have the same zeal for the situation as most had. She also did not have the same view as them, has not lived here all her life.

The midnight woman made her way leisurely through the streets, weaving between bodies, silver eyes cast about as she took in everything. On the surface so little had changed. It was still the same court she had set foot in all those months ago when she had been so much newer to this world. So much less sure. She had changed, some, since then and underneath, the court had changed too.

Across the crowd, Jezanna sees ivory hair paired against dark skin; the silver tipped wings of a gypsy. She makes her way through, to, recalling the way the woman had stood tall before them, believing the best for them. She remembered the storm she had sang, the darkening sky she broiled against, even as angry words were thrown in the regime's direction. There had been too many of them, hurled, spat, in all directions, then.

"Aislinn," she reached out for the stormsinger, beckoning her to turn where a friendly smile would wait for her. Before the meeting she had not seen the other woman since that night on the shores of Vitreus, and even now, standing next to her, Jezanna still did not know what had come of the gypsy hearted champion of the stars. Perhaps now she would have a chance. Perhaps now, she could simply give what she had to offer: her listening ear and compassionate heart.

"Speaking."