She appears above a bit of frozen wasteland. She falls, conscious but without making a peep, to the ground, and breaks a few more bones.
She lies there.
"I imagine you do not really want to go over the conversation you had with her, right now. Perhaps Promise can gauge from the Groveborn whether the Heralds are angry, and if not she can ask them what they know already and fill in any gaps, and can at least reassure them that she spoke to you and you were - able to hold a conversation." For some definition of 'conversation', anyway.
"I'm not sure being evasive about what's wrong will even help, though."
"I mean, if you - think it's better - to tell them I'm having a breakdown, I guess you can do that."
"I don't actually know why your Companion storming off in a huff would be causing a breakdown."
"The soulbond between Heralds and Companions is very extensive," Leareth says. "Heralds - take it badly, losing access to their Companions. They do not usually survive their Companions' deaths."
"She isn't dead. She might repudiate me. I - think Heralds don't usually survive that either." Vanyel's voice is very flat.
"It would be quite excessive on her part to do that because you had a conversation about gods!" Leareth hesitates. "...I cannot rule out that Companions were - made that way. They are god-created beings, after all. But I expect - I hope - that they are somewhat less rigid than that."
"My best guess of the god that has dominion over Companions now, is the god of the Valdemar region - for whom I believe the Shadow-Lover is an avatar, but They operate more subtly than most gods and, as far as I know, are not worshipped under any particular names."
No one says anything for a minute.
"...All right," Leareth jumps in finally. "Is there anything else we should go over."
"Do you want to, like, write them a letter, in your own handwriting and everything?"
Vanyel accepts both plus a book to brace the paper against, and then stares blankly at it for a while.
"No, I think I..." Vanyel starts writing. Very slowly and hesitantly. It takes him almost ten minutes to finish writing a letter.
Leareth folds and seals it for him, and offers it to Promise. "Is there anything else you would feel more comfortable having gone over before you go back? ...Probably it makes sense for you to go tomorrow, it is getting late."
"Yeah, tomorrow sounds good." She tucks the letter in her pocket and waves to Woodlark and goes to her tree and garden for dinner.