[ What he says brings spots of color to her cheeks, surprising and warming as it is. He's always had a way of reaching past the superficial, for better or worse (though, most often for the better). He might not know the effect of what he says, but she feels it deep in her bones, an alien feeling more than not. Acceptance. Praise.

Cecily swallows, offering him a tiny, hesitant smile. ]

Thank you. [ The Inquisitor says quietly. ] That's very kind of you.

[ If unexpected, because she's never considered herself a very good person, let alone leader. ]

I try, anyhow. [ She says, with a little, lighter laugh. ] But... not more than anyone else. I could always do more.

[ They'd all stopped Corypheus, though. That was something that had seemed beyond impossible when they met face to face at Haven. ]

Not here, though. Not yet, anyway. [ Now, she sours a little, scrunching her nose in distaste for their cavernous home. ] These gods don't seem to have any plan, no idea of how we got here or how to return. Or, that's what they say.

[ Not that she believes them, mind. ]