Naethra slowly steadied herself. She tried not to flinch when Red touched her, or when Oric pledged to help her find a home. She wanted, desperately, to be alone right now... but for the first time she was also glad these other people were with her.
She accepted the coffee cup from Red. Latisha had promised that this wasn't cursed or enchanted, or at least not transformatively so. She took a long, deep sip, the fluid nearly scalding hot, both smooth and bitter. It was astonishingly good.
She kept silent, her breathing ragged. When Latisha asked to see her weapons, she hesitated only a moment before slipping her focus off her hand. Thankfully, the cup was mostly empty, otherwise she would have definitely spilled as she stood up and walked, weak-kneed, to the table.
She was too tired now. Not sleepy, but wary of soul and spirit. She couldn't keep up her distrust, or her fear, or really much of anything just then. She took a seat, keeping her back against the wall.
"Thank you," she managed, realizing it would be dreadfully rude to remain silent.