[It doesn’t take a politician or a mind reader to know there is more going on beneath the surface than she may ever be privy to. Mithiel ignores the uneasy feeling in the back of her mind, the one that wonders what trouble has befallen her this time, what will happen? Will she drown in sand instead of brackish waters?

She’s not sure it matters. She’s not sure anything matters when the slate can be so easily wiped clean as if nothing that had lived there or known a place was worth saving. Perhaps, even, this is her punishment for being one of the Moriquendi who did not want to quit Middle-Earth and sail for fairer lands.

Offering Thoth a genuine but small smile.] Thank you for your guidance, Thoth. I will be happy to speak to you of my people when you wish.

[Mithiel then turns toward Set, following him. Her smile is still kind, though worry tugs at her features as she comfortably sets her pace to walk beside him but just half a step behind as she has no idea where they might be going. Just as her footprints had left no impression upon the sand, her feet are silent as she walks over the smooth floor.]

Your kingdom is surrounded by the sea of sand in which we met? [She doesn’t know what else to speak to him about and the silence has an uncomfortable quality to it.]