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"I didn't." The shadows of amusement seemed to flicker through those crimson orbitals as she accepted the cloak with an inspecting eye. Was there any way she could wear it without the wings getting in the way or hindering her movement?! Her frown was only a light one, one of thoughtfullness and puzlement. "My name...? It is Israphelle..."

After a moment of turning both her body and the fabric of the cloak both this way and that she held the article back out towards him. "And such clothing is not made for me. I will do well enough without it until I cross a seamstress or tailor... although I could use a few 'other' things...." She seemed almost hesitant to bring up any of that which could be held against her in any one way or another. "...I've lost two things frightfully dear to me. The first, and replacible, being my weapon...." sweatdrop

She smiled, but even so the action seemed to be missing something. A sense of caring, perhaps. Or maybe she was just weary, or even had a splinter in her foot. Whatever the reason, there seemed something almost detatched about her. She took the dagger with gratitude, even if she was insinuating the question of a blacksmith. Slipping the weapon beneath the crossed strap of her skirt she let her wings ruffle out before folding elegantly upon her back once more. "It is not a matter of 'trust', nor will it ever be with me... but I should warn you, I am liable to leave whenever it is my feet stray the path. If you can travel with me knowing that, then there's no reason why not." She held her hand out as if to confirm what might be considered a companionship. "...for the second thing I've lost is someone dearly important to me...."

Israphelle hooked her thumbs casually into two of the banded rings of her sectioned skirt, cromson eyes turning to look about her surroundings. In fact, it was as though she hadn't even done so much as of yet. Her voice, that distant whisp of a sound, managed its way through the air, "You said you lived here, right? So... you would obviously know your way around and others of this area, riiiiiiight?"

She opened her mouth, as though to object, but shut it quite forcefully upon her tongue. A soft grunt later and she crouched down, sighing away her weariness. She hadn't even been given a chance to ask him of the forsaken Necromancer... or whatever the hell that stupid male was. The common scowl found its way back to her face. Perhap it might be best if she not ask her new compatriot about the man. Her thoughts were soon turned inwards. She'd have much thinking to do before Riet...

A quick shake of the head drove the name from her mind. This was not the time to fester... But... after all, when better? For her 'guide' had all but run off.

A ruffle of black wings and she stood up, slowly stretching out one arm, then the other, before moving on to stretch her legs. Maybe she should just focus first on regaining her weapon... ... ...

Israphelle blinked at how easily he could just spit out fire, a dark eyebrow lifting before she turned to examine the dead-thing. A light pout later and she was pulling it off of the fire and pulling out the borrowed dagger. He might have a set of well sharpened fangs, but there was no way her human-like teeth would be able to bite through that strangely thick leathered hide.

With a clean stab she tore the blade through the creature's gut, allowing all sorts of viscera to spill beside the fire. It would start to smell worse, but she merely twitched her nose. Animal blood never seemed to phase her. How could it? Shaking dark hair from her face she twisted the critter's corpse over and meticulously began to skin it, not the lightest indication of disgust upon her face. After all, every soldier knew how to hunt and cook their own meal when it was really needed.

Still crouching Israphelle spat on her hands before rubbing them upon the ground. The dirt and mulch of the forest floor clung to the blood and spit until it was dried. With a sigh she rubbed her palms upon the meaty part of her calf and let the bloodied dirt crumble dryly to the ground by her feet. Cleaning the dagger on the lower part of one of the strips of her skirt she then returned it to the back 'X' band of the article of clothing.

Only once all that had been done did she actually allow herself to sit back and take of the food. Her stomach felt as though it were reaching up for the meal itself. Still, she kept that docile expression and ate with a slowness that said calm.

A dark eyebrow lifted, as though to say 'is that so', but she didn't speak. Instead she chewed the cooked meat in a silent form of subtle understanding. Perhaps her feet may stay on the same path as this one's for some time yet. The thought seemed interesting enough, but how long could she really hold out against herself... against Riet...

Another mouthful of the food drove the name from her thoughts and shoved said thoughts towards listening to Squirm. She didn't seem too affected by his prodding statments, indeed, she'd have been mildly suprised if he hadn't insinuated anything! A gentle nod of her head and she reached for another chunk of meat.