Kalandor would get along well with both men he decided, and agreed internally that Fayruz had found her place on The Disk.
While Fayruz had beautiful golden eyes and skin that would look fair if not for the pallor bought by the exherstion, Kalandor, in the form he now called his own, was very much the opposite. He was not the handsome of pure testosterone, his hear was a dirty brown and the only care it apeared to have was fingers through it to remove knots, and his eyes were a dark brown, but nothing special, even with the few faint green specs in them. His skin was tanned, but not muscled, any muscles seeming to have a coat of fat hiding them. His face, unwrinkled and unmarred shone with youthful exerberance, while his eyes showed knowledge of someone who should have vast crevaces in their face, caused by wrinkles, as much a juxtaposition as the two that guarded Fayruz. His clothes were simple, a leather shirt with long leather pants, almost like armour, but not leather plates, and they were completely unardorned, with his boot bearing much dust. His staff, which now never left his side, looked every bit like a sheperds crock, with a thick spiraling head attached to the stout staff. He looked completely out of place in his clothes, and only an underlying sixth sense lent any feel he was a divine.
Kalandor would follow with Fayruz, lending her what aid he could, but his skill being merely little better than traveller cures, for the what if trouble happens on the trail, he mostly watches, occasionally asking questions as to how she effects certain cures. Otherwise he converses with her guards, and waits while she works.