Rosyn's fires quell a bit but they have not forgiven the one that made them raise up just yet. They burn steadily now but without their previous rage. She turns her head slowly to look at him again and somehow, despite the lack of actual eyes within the hollows, she looks sad. "I was, once... My hands no longer wish to wield the blade, it is my curse to fear them. I am, however, a well trained Archer."