For several moments, Isabell stared at Heila in shock as she tried to process the idea that Ashlynn would, at some point in the future, offer her a place in her coven of witches. It sounded preposterous, but then, just a day ago, the notion of entering the Vale of Mists and being received as an honored guest was also preposterous. Yet here she lay, with a horned witch tending to her wounds, using exotic and rare ingredients that could very well be considered priceless on this side of the mountains…
It was too much, even for her. Accepting that Ashlynn was a witch and holding back all of her preconceived notions of what witches were until she learned first hand was already a stretch for her. She could accept that Ashlynn wasn't wicked, even if she was going to war with the rulers of Lothian March. She could accept that the Eldritch people were just people who looked different and had unique customs of their own.
