Valkyrie wanted to say she hadn't even been thinking of leading anyone into walls, but that wouldn't really have been true. She would never actually do it, not with everything Solomon had been through, but Valkyrie couldn't really deny imagining what it would be like. She was only human, after all. The room was a little too big, though; she doubted she'd be able to get anywhere near a wall without Solomon suspecting something.

"I'm not just a teenager," she muttered, but her tone was only half-hearted by that point. "Where are they - oh."

Tenebrae and Quiver were standing off to one side of a group of sorcerers, not too far away from Craven. And as difficult as it had been to imagine Craven's inner self as an anthill, it was even harder to look at Tenebrae and imagine him deciding to pluck somebody's eyes out. He wasn't nice, not by any stretch of the imagination. But she'd never really pictured Tenebrae as a sadist, either. Torturing an ex-Necromancer, horrible as that was, she could believe. But something so needlessly agonising, devastating, and disgusting? Valkyrie didn't look at Tenebrae for too long; it nearly made her want to throw up all over again.

The next question was a pleasant distraction. "He's..." she hesitated, "about five people along, I think. He's walking toward us. Or, wait, no, someone just stopped him."

"He doesn't look too happy, does he?" Ghastly commented.

Erskine made a noise halfway between a laugh and an annoyed grunt. "Oh, you don't know the half of it. I swear, it's like wartime all over again. He tried to punish me this morning."

"What did you do?"

There was a pause before Erskine answered. "Nothing that warranted punishment, I assure you. At least, not when Corrival's in a good mood. I recommend treading lightly around him. And possibly agreeing with everything he says."