Andric stroked his chin as he tapped his foot impatiently.
With an exasperated sigh, he made a shooing motion towards Illya.
"Suit yourself... perhaps we can talk later... when death does not surround us."
He walked off to a corner, muttering to himself, waving his arms about. He stopped suddenly, and turned back to the broken mill.
Perhaps her nightmarish hallucinations are simply a result of a screwed aethyric attunement.
DM:
SpoilerOOC: Can I too roll a magic sense check?