Gala is just going to leave the necromancy thought-snippet alone because she has no idea what to do with that. 

There are more hoofbeats, blending with a sudden roll of thunder, and then a map leaps down from the back of a different terrifying quadruped. "What's going on– Tylendel? What are you - where's Savil?" 

Tylendel just stares at Jaysen, eyes glazed in shock. 

"Oh, blast it, let me have a look at him." The man folds himself down to the ground and reaches for Van's forehead. "- Hellfires! What happened to him?" 

Another roll of thunder. It starts raining. 

Jaysen lifts his head and fixes his pale eyes on the strange woman. "And who are you?" 

The strange woman stands, grinning, then gives a graceful bow that's downright courtly. Her clothes are a brilliant teal fading into deep violet, of an extremely expensive and foreign (and, uh, quite revealing) make. She holds some kind of golden scepter with a jewel on the end, and she is very, very magic. She's also extremely pretty, almost unnaturally so, with copper red hair twisted up in a complicated bun. Flaws and makeup are for people that don't have illusions, and she does. There is no reason at all for her to not use them for vanity.

She says something wry in her foreign tongue ("I really think I'm not the person you should be talking to, here."), gesturing with a thumb to Gala. Then she looks up at the rain and laughs. Oh, she did it, she's out, she's out, she's free free free and she's so happy she could cry, but that would be inconvenient so instead she's going to twirl and giggle. She's going to be a sobbing wreck when reality catches up to her, but for now the high of adrenaline and untangling a mess is delightful.

Jaysen is giving her a concerned look, but then he shakes his head and bends to scoop up Vanyel, while his Companion briefly convenes with Gala. 

:We're taking Van inside and he needs a Healer: Gala says to her. :Do, um - do you need a Healer? How did you end up on top of us, anyway?: 

It's now raining in earnest. More thunder rolls. 

:No, I'm (physically) fine, thank you.:

Then Gala asks the second question and. That one is hard to answer while twirling, and especially while laughing. She stops both, sort of freezing like an animal catching the scent of a hunter. Damn, what a reasonable question to ask, and how incredibly difficult for her to answer.

There's a pause and a gathering of composure, the feeling of the woman carefully stepping around a large and terrifying beast, but the beast is within her and made from her. But yes, this deserves an answer, and she will give it. Even if it's hard. Then:

:I was stranded between worlds. I used your magic-door to get out.: And then she's moving on from the monster of emotions as quickly as she possibly can, before she sinks to the ground to start sobbing or something, continuing (almost) brightly with, :Thank you kindly for that, it was very convenient and I'm terribly sorry about probably making it more unstable with my entrance. In my defense -: and there's a pause, because her first answer is something like 'I think I suffered enough there, thanks,' partially sent and then cut off because no trauma, not yet, followed by, :I think I made myself quite useful anyway!:

She does not seem entirely fine. 

:Well, do you need a room to stay while you find your footing?: Gala offers. :I'm sorry, we can't give you much of a welcome, given - all this - but we should get you out of the rain at least: 

Oh, she is absolutely not fine, and will not pretend anything else! But she will be functional until she's neatly tucked out of the way so she can fall to pieces where it won't cause any trouble. Speaking of!

:A room would be lovely. Also a pitcher of water, food that will easily withstand being ignored for a while, and privacy for a couple of hours so I can, uh.: She can't quite put it to words. She's not okay, this is obvious to anyone with a brain, yes? She needs to go be not okay for a while and would like to please be alone for that.

Outwardly, she has the slightest of smiles on her face. As she stands like a statue in the pouring rain. Looking at the terrifying quadruped.

:We'll get you a guest room: 

It takes Gala a few minutes of reaching for other Companions, since Jaysen is now striding off with Vanyel in his arms and Tylendel hovering next to him. Eventually a grey-haired man comes out and leads her down a path to an old-looking stone building, and into it, and then shows her a guest-room. It has a bed with an extra wool blanket folded up at the foot, and a small writing desk and a chamber-pot and an unlit candle on the bedside table.

"Someone will be right over with food and water," the man says, gruffly but not unkindly. "Need anything else?" 

:Thank you very much.:

She waits patiently, eyes closed and head upturned towards the sky, enjoying the novelty of being rained on. It's better than the endless tireless walking she'd been doing before, and her clothing's magical shielding is keeping her warm enough. When the man shows up she smiles pleasantly at him and is obligingly led to her guest-room.

When he speaks, she tilts her head and makes an apologetic expression, then says something in her foreign language. ("Did not get any less foreign in the past ten minutes, apologies. Please go away so I can cry now.") She shakes her head and gives a little courtly bow to say Thank you, because he seems like he's trying to be helpful, and really she just wants him to go away. Please go away. That would be great.

:Sorry, people are overwhelmed and keep forgetting: Gala is outside the window of her guest room. :He said food's coming soon. After that we'll let you rest: And she disappears off into the rain, catching up with her Chosen. 

Food and a jug of water arrive with a servant a minute or so later; the woman shows no particular surprise at either Vetareh's appearance or her lack of response, just sets the tray down and bows and leaves the room again. 

And then everything is quiet, except for the rain and thunder outside. 

:It's fine, I understand.: And she does. She's irritated and frazzled and just about out of ability to cope now that there isn't a crisis to hold her together, but that's hardly their problem. It's not fair to take it out on them when they're obviously scrambling after dealing with, uh, whatever it is that she landed on. Especially not when they're doing their best to help her.

She spends the interim investigating her guest room, and thanks the servant with another little bow. The food and water go on the desk where she can easily find them. Then she carefully closes the curtains, locks the door, bundles herself in the woolen blanket, and promptly collapses in bed to freak out.

There will be a lot of crying. She doesn't know how long she held herself together with willpower and practicality and spite, but it was far too long. The relief of it being over is in many ways worse than the moment to moment experience of being trapped in a fate worse than death. All of it was real. She's stranded somewhere very strange with terrifying sapient quadrupeds who talk with their minds. She's so, so far away from home, and getting back was always, always going to be impossible. It just seems so much more so now that she's not in a place that could conceivably get there. Maybe she can't even find her way to Grenth and the Underworld that holds her family's departed souls. Maybe she's just stranded in a new and exciting place, forever. It's an improvement, but maybe not as much of one as she'd like.

A lot of crying occurs. There's also some variety, such as impatiently pacing her guest-room, praying to Grenth to please, please, please find her when she dies, please, she doesn't want her parents to keep not knowing where their daughter's soul is forever, some hand wringing and hair rending, and other assorted dramatic coping mechanisms. She's not okay, she's extremely not okay, but at least she has space to fall apart, which is always the first step of putting oneself back together. It's more than she had before.

When she's properly exhausted herself, she sits down at the desk and miserably drinks a lot of water, then mechanically eats through the now extremely cold and probably stale food. She's not particularly hungry, but who cares. Bodies are made of meat and lies, she will eat something and she doesn't have to like it, but she does have to do it.

Then she sees about picking up her many pieces to put herself back together. Okay. First step is to wash her face and lounge on the bed looking at the ceiling and contemplating her next move. Hm. Well, taking a vacation sounds awful, she wants interesting problems to solve and valuable things to do, long term. Short term, though... She thinks she'd like to drop her previous set of spells and swap out for something else, because she thinks more options are better than her current high level of specialization against magic. The resurrection signet is used up and essentially wasted space, anyway. It's easier to think when she has her entire library of options available to her, when she reminds herself of all of the things she knows and can do. It's easier to feel safe when half of her proverbial magical being isn't devoted to self defense on every known axis. Ironically, she's much less safe this way, but no one ever said feelings were logical.

And that is how the strange woman's stranger shields and brilliant magical signature abruptly cut out without any kind of warning while she sits on the bed and writes notes to herself in floating illusions. Her mind and emotions are laid bare. Mostly she's tired. A little scared, but in an unflappable 'My standards are underground, and it can only be up from here,' kind of way. Enraptured by the problem before her of what spells does she even bring when she's in a strange place she knows nothing about and doesn't even speak the language.

Vanyel sleeps, restlessly, drifting in the shallows somewhere below the distant agonizing pain in his head and in other places that didn't used to exist. 

Tylendel sits huddled by his bedside, holding his hand, rocking silently. 

- tired, scared, but unflappable - nowhere but up from here -

...what is that? Drifting half in a dream, Vanyel reaches for the thoughts that aren't his–

–and wakes up screaming, his head suddenly full of molten-magma agony as he accidentally projects a current of painscaredpanicpanicpanic at the unguarded mind he was unwittingly just trying to read. 

Vetareh falls off of the bed with a half bitten off shriek, flailing in panic that isn't hers. Mental attack, emotional axis, shove spells back into place to get shields back up, any will be better than none. She reaches for the most familiar ones. Those'll do. Her shields coming back up takes time, though, and she spends the interim shivering in a heap on the floor, panicpanicpanic running through her mind and being quite irritating. And then her defenses reform around her and she takes a deep breath and stands up.

So, that was unpleasant.

Where was her attacker? Who was her attacker? Was someone just hovering outside her guest-room waiting to swoop in and, what, cause her uncomfortable but ultimately harmless panic? That doesn't make sense. It would if there were two people attacking her and one wanted an opening, but she would have noticed if people were hanging around outside, planning to menace her. What? She disentangles herself from her heap, then stands and unlocks the door with minimally shaking hands. Cautiously, she peeks outside. Uh, is the place under attack...? No, it. It seems fine. What?

"Van - VanVanVan it's all right wake up you're all right–"

Vanyel is still screaming and convulsing on the bed, oblivious to his surroundings. 

And a white horse gallops across the grounds, compelled by a Call that she couldn't quite pin down until now. 

Gala spends ten seconds trying to reassure and ground her panicking Chosen, and then - deal with the rest, he's probably not the only one panicking right now...

:Are you all right?: she asks Veterah. :I'm really sorry about that. He didn't mean to: 

Vetareh isn't precisely panicking, but she is certainly on high alert, looking for some kind of murderous creature to jump out of the bushes to attempt to maim her.

:No harm done,: which is not the same as all right, but she'd never claimed to be that, okay. What follows is a business-like rapid fire of questions, demanded with a sharpness she'll probably feel a bit bad about later. :Who didn't mean to? That was an accident? That is a terrifying amount of power for an accident, why isn't that happening behind safety shields??"

:Vanyel. We're trying to get shields on him now - he wasn't Gifted before this! We don't know how it happened! - oh, Yfandes thinks it was probably the Gate coming down on him: