"You already replaced her!?"
The words had echoed in the well-masoned room. Heads turned, eyebrows rose, and ears flinched. The apothecaries paused their work to watch the two quarrelling. It wasn't every day they saw a fight, so any entertainment besides making progress or torture was intriguing at best.
"How could you replace her!? S-she wasn't our best, but she was dedi-"
"She was a liability," the opposing voice calmly stated. "...Outlived her usefulness. Why? Are you, perhaps, a supporter of Putress' ideals?" His glowing eyes narrowed.
The ranger was a bit unnerved as all of the Forsaken's eyes burrowed into him like maggots in a corpse, writhing and feeding upon long-abandoned remains, and here he was. Alone. Wrong words could have him killed, too. "N-no, of course not..." His words came out much weaker and high pitched than he had anticipated.
"You don't seem so sure, Mister Cloudstrider," the Grand Apothecary grinned, looking up at the man. "Perhaps you should be the next test subject of the New Blight." Seeing the fear his suggestion brought to the elf, Faranell suggested something else. "Or, you could think about alternate employment. Go home, rest a while. If the Glades call you back, come."
Feloth took the opportunity while he could. He gathered his belongings (or what he could find after the city's siege) and left, touching the translocation orb with a free palm to perhaps get better rest in the Row.