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Allura likes to keep her private things private.

She had told Vox Machina all the details she thought pertinent to their quest: Kima’s physical description, destination, last known whereabouts, companions, provisions, goal. Allura had commissioned them to find her friend, and if the recompense was rather more dear than that word often merited, they had not questioned her.

And, in truth, there is little to tell. When last she and Kima spoke, they had both been distracted, Kima by the will of Bahamut, Allura by her worry for Kima, and neither had been altogether sensible. They had parted in mutual confusion and frustration, and while Allura had swiftly regretted her rash words, her repentance had come too late. She had rushed to follow, but had found her sense of duty to Emon to be too strong to allow her to leave her post.

So she had waited, in mounting fear and anxiety, until the tension had become too much. Then she had engaged Vox Machina. She had told them that she was worried for her friend, which was the truth. She had told them that dreams of great evil had drawn Kima to the Underdark, which was also the truth. She had not told them that Kima had vowed never to leave her side, that Allura had vowed the same in return, that both of them had broken that vow many times over.

It had seemed too personal to share, at the time.

Now, she finds that she wishes she had told someone, anyone, how much Kima means to her. She had never told Kima, and now she regrets that, bitterly.

So she worries, and wonders, and waits.