#sara's uniquely sara-esque way of just sidling up to people makes me laugh

[rafent]

Sara has never really been one to prey upon the misfortune of others or prod at wounds outside of her responsibility as a healer to inspect them. Not intentionally anyways. Every smile she grants is a genuine article, every bubble of laughter risen within her chest authentic as humanly possible. So she does not approach the Professor to render any judgment regarding his presence, only peers at him in silent recognition.

Her eyes pass him over just once and even those seconds are enough confirm the severity of his injuries. Which do not strike her as worth concern. He'd been sturdy, built like a fortress in his draconic form, wavering only in spirit when they ascended the steps of a twisting tower of trials. Sara knew that this was little more than a minor setback for the both of them. Had the stakes been higher, Rafal could have leveled Gronder Field to smoke and ash.

But the Battle of Eagle and Lion was not a true battle, just the phantom of a bygone era, as if humans needed an excuse to bruise and bloody.

"Which house do you believe will crawl its way to victory?" she poses, head poised to the side. It isn't because she cares about the outcome, but an opportunity to probe a mind that still perplexes her at times might be worthwhile.

Eyes were felt to bore into the dragon moments before perception, prickling by unseen sensation like ticks hooking beneath his scales. A small, silvery girl they belonged to; familiar and known to a name. He blinked at her, taken aback through the raising of a brow, and even then smoothly recovered. Lacking in greeting and ceremony, pared and trimmed of the superfluous fat that attached itself to others, Sara aligned herself with a forward nature not unlike Nel's. Rafal did not precisely dislike this about her.

He grunted, acknowledged and greeted the girl in the same breath - honored that convivial human custom for the both of them.

"So you are here as well, Sara." Her timing in that was even particularly fortunate; had she approached him closer to the inception of his own arrival, the attitude to greet her would have been considerably different. Likewise, though a roaring dichotomy, he indulged her agreeably with a scoff: "I do not care for the outcome of this competition. Such a consideration is worth its weight in gold, which is precisely none. But, if you must ask, the answer is obvious."

Obvious, at least, so far as it concerned Rafal. The deer had trounced him solidly, it was Rafal that the eagles had lost, and as for the lions. . .a third party little seen, albeit not totally invisible to the watchful Fell Dragon who discerned more than he freely let on. Arms curved across his chest in a neat fold, confident, unwavering, as if he could not be wrong.

"The victory of a house will be determined by its strongest fighters. In that regard, the Divine One is on this battlefield. He is a powerful dragon. So long as he remains among the lions, there will be no easy victory to be had for others." Downy locks swayed on a self-possessed nod. He did not mention the aspect of his latent predilection and neither did he realize it. Anyone who defeated the Fell Heir was a thousand times over proven of their strength and who alone had that honor?