Middling demons sounds doable with one anchorshard, albeit not with only one set of hands. The voice speaking it reminds her a bit of Flint, which doesn’t immediately do anything but bolster that initial impression of competence; a beat later, when she registers what has reminded her of James Flint, the gaze she returns to Calpernia is more frankly measuring. The narrow point of her focus, particularly as one of her eyes is not an eye at all, can be unsettling— she doubts any Tevene this far south is that easily off-put.

The point isn’t to intimidate, particularly not someone who already isn’t scared of fucking demons. It’s just the thing that her face does: convey very directly what is happening behind it.

(Some people are subtle. Other people are a burning brick thrown through a window. Gwenaëlle, the latter, is more comfortable here than she ever was an imperial courtier.)

“You have anything good for either of those?”

She saw the fire leap to Livia’s hand; mage, then, so useful even if unarmed, and probably not actually unarmed. Not that difficult, sitting by a fire, to lead the eye away from a staff stashed somewhere nearby— maybe she hasn’t got one, but it’d be really convenient if she did. They’ll need more than only the two of them, of course, but there’s a fire and the rift isn’t going anywhere and she’s not the only Riftwatch agent roaming this way. It’ll be interesting to see how Livia wishes to play it, regardless.