Elika likes the morning. This is a foreign concept, she knows, to most of her students as well as her companion, but there's something about rising with the sun that makes her feel accomplished and refreshed, even before her day starts. It's calm, few people are about, and those that are are usually of a like mind, quietly enjoying the fresh air.

So the last person she was expecting to see during her morning jog was one pale-haired elf, clutching the railing at the gates and looking sore. It's a look she knows, for all that her meeting with it was brief. The thought of passing him by flashes inside her mind, but she'll spend the rest of the day fretting if she leaves him alone with his hurt, even if he ends up turning her away.

Her legs carry her to him, her bare feet stalling next to his on the smooth path.

"Good morning, Fenris." She greets him, straightening, voice low. "You look pained. Is it the markings?"