Philomel tilted her head with the thought and began to frown. Her eyes looked around her, going from the ragged wall to the unclean window, from the still and murky well to the ash-covered roofs, where it had slid down the verge and piled like snow ready to fall atop an unsuspecting head. Lips reformed that thin, hard line as she considered, an attitude of determination, concentration and anticipation. Her eyes also narrowed, focusing and refocusing as she looked up and down, left and right, spinning as if she was trying hard to see something, yet could not just quite gain a hold of what was. It was as if she was looking for shadows in the brightness of a midday picnic under a clear sky, knowing that they had to be present, but so hard to find.

Eventually, after a long pause, she spoke.

"If it is airborne then we are already doomed," she decided, and her tone was quiet. Bringing her hooves together she shouldered the mighty white-bladed weapon in her hand before she turned back around to Lilly.

A tongue ran over her lips. There was a twitch in her fingers. Altogether she held herself proud and strong, resolute like a warrior queen, but there was now some hesitation in her stance. A slight nervousness, an element of the unknown. Her voice stayed even, and for one not looking closely they would not notice any change, yet for Lilly as close as she was there was clearly some change that indicated a lessening of enthusiasm.

Possibly even fear.

"Fuck," she said quietly, then she pulled her breath in before straightening. Her jaw worked before she nodded at Lilly.

"It will be our responsibility, then, to try not to let the disease spread. I suggest we try the house."

Her eyes strayed back over to the shuttered and boarded house. Within lay the possibility of survivors, who had kept themselves from all others. Would they be coughing, like the man who lay dead at her feet? Or would they be healthy, like Philomel and her new companion would be? Ah yes, companions.

Gently the faun pushed at the waiting presence in her mind; the great dragon who was patient and kind. Trying not to frighten him she murmured a lie as she began to stride towards the house. She presumed Lillith followed her, or rather, hoped. The dark elf's last words had been encouraging. 'Would you like to take the lead?'

Stay there my darling, she told the gentle, wingless beast, Do not fear. I am well, but do not come into the village. There are ... she paused, as she hefted her weapon and sized up the door. Sword on wood. A hammer would be better but desperate times ... People who do not like dragons.

She felt a rush of anger. Do not ...?!

She nodded, adjusting her grip on the sword and the balance of her hooves. Angling her body she prepared to swing. They are fine, but as a mark of respect, for now ... do not come. I will see you soon, she promised the last.

And then she broke the contact, not waiting for a response. Instead, she swung.

Hard and brutal.

And the door crashed inwards.

Feel free to describe what they see inside.