... Cidolfus has already shown me around. I've familiarized myself with Eltrut, at the very least.

[Dragged her, more like. And while there is a sharpness in her tone at his name on her tongue, it lacks some of that same resentful bite that it usually does.

Though they may be seated on opposite sides, but perhaps that's part of why Benedikta finds herself unconsciously leaning forward, as if to close some of that distance that the table puts between them. An effort to show that even with his presence, she remains ever loyal to him for as long as he is here. She still can't quite meet his gaze, still too afraid, and when she does, it's for but a moment before she drops hers elsewhere.]

There are others like us. They call us Riftfarers. [That, however, gets every twinge of bitterness she has to offer. She fucking hates that name or any name that she did not give herself.] If we could find a way to recruit some of them before others can...

[Of course, the one Riftfarer that she does want would refuse any offer she tried to make, but she's quick to stamp out that thought lest it spirals too far out of her control.]

And you will need a ship, no doubt.