Vena sits rigidly until the messenger touches her shoulder, then stands up without any of her previous verve. "I'm... I'm going."

She starts off at a wooden shuffle and doesn't look at Guts once, whether he's leading or following. Vena doesn't cry - she'd taught herself not to unless it would help, back when it mattered more, and still remembers how - but it's certainly clear that she's dwelling on some private hell.

The eavesdropper comes after her, prudently keeping Vena between herself and Guts, babbling half concerned, half gloating questions. "What did you do? Ooooooh, is she gonna repudiate you? Is she gonna - you know - the first two fingers thing? Is she gonna kick you out? What are you gonna do? Vena!"

"She's not gonna," Vena mouths without really saying. "She's not gonna..."