The pile of blankets on Syton's bedroll stirs and one of the many blankets falls away to reveal half of Syton's face. He is sleeping now, as he has been all day, in a death-like coma. The young freelander mutters half a word, twitches, then sits up abruptly. He seems to have been sleeping in his armor. Syton blinks and shakes his head to clear it, looking around the tent. Celeste steps from one of the tents, already dressed in her obsidian armor. The thunder almost heralding her entrance as she looks about the camp. She repositions the mace on her hip as she draws closer.