[That her body survived eight months of infections, surgeries, and machines inside of her was an act of spite and spite alone. A soldier to the core, Judith had known there was no way she could just die. Who would give report about the conditions they faced? Who would be there to keep an eye on Camilla and Coronabeth so that they didn't become radicalized?

Judith shifted, uncomfortable underneath Ortus' heavy gaze.]

I'll be fine with some clothes and a bed, Ninth. A barracks, if there is one, will suffice.

[She was lying.

She loathed the idea of being around strangers.

-- And yet, for all that Ortus was a stranger to her, he was still from one of the Houses. The ways of the Ninth were as foreign to her as the ways of the Second must have been to him, but she could see that they were aligned in one obvious way. It was hard to remove them from their cultures entirely.

It was a small comfort amidst a sea of uncertainty.]

And don't worry about it, your questions have their reasons. I'm just...

[She trailed, and allowed her proud mask to slip enough to show her bone-deep weariness and exhaustion. Her muscles ached, her heart pounded in an unfamiliar manner that made her nerves jittery, and even a thousand years did not sound like enough sleep.]

I'm just tired.