Ilde glances back at Anna in the midst of that, watching her expression for a moment with her curiously blank blue-black eyes; her half-smile is fleeting, but commiserating. It's everywhere, iron, and most of the time it doesn't hurt, but she soaked in it day after day for years and it's not a feeling that can just be ignored. Side-stepped, maybe, but it's there.

Still, she's on her own with sassing mages. Ilde watches the fog, after that.