The Aleran wasn't praying to anyone.

The pervasion of sel darthirii enlightenment which had spread over her own dwarven customs, like tar over grass thousands of years ago saw to that. The dark elven way was all Yvonne had been taught. For the tutor of her youth to teach her anything more cultured would have been inviting punishment into their multi-functional home, if they were ever caught in the act of religious education. Possibly even death to her teacher, depending on the severity of the crime. Dwarven religion had been stamped out, their idols shattered into rubble and their minds brainwashed toward thoughts more experimental, mechanical and scientific. Their deities were abolished while their mastery of the pickaxe, the hammer and anvil was encouraged.

That didn't mean Yvonne had to like it. Far from it. It was funny really. Ironic. The same encouragement of broad-mindedness, free-thinking and progressive, revolutionary thoughts led her to question those that oppressed her. In doing so she had come to the conclusion that her dark elven overseers were in the wrong - that they should never have affected the peoples in their way all those years ago so monumentally, when they invaded her homeland. Everywhere that Yvonne had tread she had sought co-existence with the people around her, because of the way she had been treated in her youth. She may have given a disciplinary scolding to individuals who didn't co-exist peacefully with others, but tyranny wasn't exactly her thing.

She rebelled against tyranny, especially here, safely on the other side of the known world. Here at the dinner table of humans, not a dark elf in sight to dispute her actions - where there was no fear of reprisal - she silently said grace. Her back remained straight in her chair, her almond-shaped eyes closed plainly for all to see, those they dared flick a look when they should have been saying grace themselves. Hers was not a prayer to anyone in particular which she was aware of, and yet, she did hope for someone, somewhere out there to be hearing her.

Protect those which be unable ta protect themselves. Lift tha downtrodden from tha earth beneath ye and punish those that put them there. Guide tha outcasts of this world toward refuge and cast out into tha cold those that exiled them. If ye cannot then lend me tha influence ta do so for ye. I acknowledge ye have gifted me with refuge and sustenance one more time tonight and I will not squander tomorrow. For safeguarding me so that I might safeguard others, I thank ye.

Henry's voice brought her attention back to the here and now, her black eyelids receding and revealing silver. Her love interest was cradling a meal bowl in one hand and wielding a ladle with the other, wondering how much soup she sought. Yvonne smiled appreciatively - there were those gentleman's manners of his again, preparing her dinner for her - and she raised a humble open hand barely above the tabletop to slow him.

"Only a modest serving for me, thank you Henry. I be tubbly bubbly enough about tha middle already, no need ta encourage me," Yvonne divulged. The comment caused a ripple of giggles to cascade around the table throughout the children, though truthfully - as far as dwarven standards went specifically - she was lean with a tight middle and wide hips. She was definitely happy with her breaking of the ice, so many delighted smiling faces looking at her now.

Yvonne nodded softly knowing Henry had only partly filled her bowl, beaming a smile at him while the titters of their reactions quietened down. She relieved him of the bowl and placed it before her, not touching it yet as it would be rude to dig in immediately. Instead she filled her cup, from the pitcher nearest her with water, also leaving it be for the moment.

The grey dwarf listened closely as Henry unfolded a tale from his travels. She covertly rolled her eyes at how cliché the story was going to be - a heroic young man that arrives in the nick of time to save the damsel in distress, reluctantly called to action by his moral compass, overcoming overwhelming odds and saving the day.

Colour her intrigued when she learned the damsel in this story knew how to fend for herself, slaying and perhaps feeding on one of her aggressors-turned-victims, and the hero had to rescue the two foolish men which had underestimated the woman. Yvonne grinned, her eyes aglow with amusement and curiosity. Noticing the host of the table had begun to chew his stew the foreigner acquired her spoon, lifting a sip for herself. Mmm, deliciously simplistic. It could use a herb, some spices...

It was not Yvonne's place to question the meal set before her and she did enjoy it, truthfully. Difficult to be completely satisfied with a basic meal, that's all, considering her culinary skills were quite practiced. That said she'd been on the open road long enough to accept anything she was given. It be leagues ahead of tha time I fed meself on cave-slime and witchetty grubs. Perhaps all it required was a little more crunch, like that time in the cave. A piece of bread to go with her soup and she was quite content.