[She can feel the presence of his hand, even though the light layers of leather. Not as touch, per se, but as a slight weight that is... almost comforting, now, as she prepares herself for what she assumes is likely death. This few people, against an entire city? Even if they did not anticipate their arrival...

The weight of his hand leaves. Here, were there are so many other of the Pleroma who might see... She cannot bear to imagine asking him to put it back.]

I would have you swear something to me.

[She appreciates what seems to have been an honest attempt to appraise himself, but though he seems fine now... She imagines he may have felt fine before he was crystal, as well, before that fight in Godsblood, and so-]

If you begin to feel... not as yourself.

[How strange the words were to her, coming as she did from a world where all of this... all of it was so strange as to barely even be grasped by legends or fairytales. Possession, sure, by the likes of trickster foxes or curses, but such a strange, god-like entity... ?]

You will tell-

[She almost says "me". But Estinien is... She thinks of the foolish looking Naruhodo, of the healer named Himeka, the whoremonger Abel... He is better than her, at walking among others. At making allies. Perhaps it is not much to say someone is more skilled than her at such things, but it means that... There are likely others who care for him, and whether he loses him self to the Innocence. So to say that would be... presumptuous, at best.

What she ends up saying, after a pause that is too long, finally moving her head to look him in the eyes as she adjusts her quivers.]

You will not keep silent. Others will look to you, to lead this charge. They cannot have you lost.