They go inside. 

Leareth heads straight for one of the private rooms and sits down and closes his eyes. 

:Nayoki, please arrange to have the best artificers in the organization here within a candlemark: 

:Of course: 

She is going to delegate the HELL out of that task, to the nearest Mindspeaker in range. 

:...Leareth. Are you sure you are - ready for this -?: 

:I do not see why that is relevant: 

She gives him the Look that means he's being dense.

:It is relevant if you might suddenly have a breakdown in the middle of an emergency because you are refusing to address any of your emotions about this: 

Leareth sighs. 

:I do not foresee that happening. Do you?: 

:Maybe! I have no idea what might happen when you are– when you are in this state: 

Leareth's only response to this is a slightly raised eyebrow. 

:Also you are NOT SLEEPING. Which I feel is objectively very concerning: 

He sighs again. :I am sure that this world with highly advanced technology where we are apparently going has better solutions to that problem than we do: 

Nayoki groans out loud. :Leareth: 

He doesn't answer for a long time. 

:- Fine. I admit that I - could certainly be coping better. I think the same could be said for everyone still alive on this planet. And, apparently, on millions of others. I really do not think the correct strategy here is to delay any longer: 

Nayoki closes her eyes. Lets out her breath, heavily. 

:I know. Just - you can delegate, all right? And then...just try, to take some time for yourself, before we go. For my sake, at least: 

:I really think there is a great deal of preparation that I cannot delegate! ...I suppose if I do have an inconveniently timed emotional breakdown, you are allowed to say 'I told you so':

Nayoki is not going to reward that with an answer. 

At least she can tell herself she tried. 

Two candlemarks later, and five hundred miles away -

"I'm going. That's final."

Dara makes an exasperated sound and puts her head down on the tabletop. 

Savil rolls her eyes at the ceiling. 

"Look. You have thirty mages from Leareth's goddamned army. All of whom are better trained than me, AND decades younger. You do not need me. At all." 

"Fine. Damn it. Savil, I know you might prefer to go off on a suicidal revenge mission, but I want you back in one piece, all right? I outrank you and that's an order."

"That's a really stupid order, you know." 

Snort. "We both know you're just jealous that you can't get vengeance with us." 

"Savil!" 

"Dara, we all want revenge. No point pretending. I'll do my best on your behalf, all right?" 

Dara starts to answer, but for some reason the words get stuck and what comes out instead is a giggle which is half a sob, and then she can't stop laughing at - what - at how STUPID all this is, everything she's been saying in this conversation, she's not even twenty who is she to pretend that she knows what she's doing... 

:You win, I guess: she sends, since she's too busy laughcrying to talk out loud. :Just promise you'll get drunk with me before you leave. Oh, and if you could give me a head's up who else I'm going to be having this fight with?: 

Oh for the sake of all the gods, now SHE has the stupidcryinggiggles too.

:- Don't let Lady Treesa invite herself. She's going to try to insist we need someone to bring us tea and biscuits if we're going to go save the worl– guess I can't say that, can I. All the worlds. The universe? Gods, that sounds even more pretentious: 

Snort. :I think sending her off with you is the best idea I've heard all week. She can go thematically decorate SOMEONE ELSE'S meeting-rooms in different-coloured streamers every day. It'll be good for her: