Kell was experienced in standing to one side, being patient while he companion tried on clothes -- he was Rhy's brother, after all. But something about this was different. It was old hat, or routine. The look in Neria's eyes, the way she fluttered her fingers over the fabric to smooth it down, the way her gaze caught in disbelief on her own reflection-

This was more than clothes, this was... something being sewn back together, maybe even remade.

It was the last one that made his breath catch. He'd seen her scars before, but he hadn't seen these. Not the ones from the dungeons of Aallotar... the brand.

Hot, sick guilt threatened to come up his throat, and he was grateful that Neria hadn't been looking at his face while the knowledge settled. It would have hurt her more. Instead he dragged his eyes to her face, to that look of wonder in her expression, and felt his heart skip a strange, elated beat, tasting of something bittersweet.

"Then it is yours. And the others." Calla nodded, pressing Neria's hand, then moving to start boxing them up, smiling widely to herself -- and then she paused, tilting her head to one side, walking over to a shining display of small masks, hairpieces...

She plucked something small and bronze-gold and brought it back to her, laying the delicate thing in Neria's hands.

"This will go well, I think."