Perendi flashed a brief smile in the newcomer's direction; relieved that the boy seemed to at know enough sign language to understand the gist of what she was trying to explain. While most of the time, such a long interval of waiting would usually be filled with conversation or playing a quick game of dice, she wasn't uncomfortable with the silence that fell in the meantime. After all, she was simply here to complete her job and be on her way once more. While she was quite curious about why the Arcanist seemed quite angry with the boy being in the laboratory, especially when he had explained he'd only just arrived to deliver a message and nothing more. It wasn't her business to uncover the reason for that.
Her curiosity was peaked at the mention of the student being cursed, however. The mercenary hadn't encountered anyone else so afflicted and it was only natural that she'd have to swallow a bit of inquisitiveness to keep from sticking her nose where it wasn't wanted or needed. However, her eye widened considerably when the child only seemed to very lightly touch the shelf that the fruit of her labor perched, only to cause the shelf to begin tumbling down.
There were not enough profanities to express the horror of watching that vial come tumbling down- and though the mercenary wasn't exactly slow-moving, neither her sudden lunge away from the wall nor Ivis's attempts to recapture the vessel were swift enough to keep the enchanted phial from shatering on the floor. For several long moments, Perendi could only stare dully at the sizzling fluid that splashed across the floor. However, almost immediately, that dumbfounded inactivity faded away as the silent mercenary flinched and rocked backward on her heels, stumbling backward a step as though she'd just taken an unanticipated and rather vicious, close-range punch to the stomach; breath coming as short, sharp pants that caught in her throat, the blow might as well have been physical.
Wave after wave of screaming emotion poured over the mercenary, permeating the fabric of her being. What started as the phantom fingers of mindless shock and disbelef quickly twisted into something more malignant: seething rage burning so hot, bright and viciously that it simply could not be contained, lest she'd spontaneously combust: before the hapless soldier of misfortune was even aware of what she was doing, she had pivoted on her heels, countenance screwed up into a snarl of all-consuming, blood-boiling rage as she lifted her right hand, balled it into a fist. That fist was thrown straight out, carrying with it all the strength and bitter anger that roiled within; a savage punch thrown at the closest wall- probably denting, maybe even cracking it. Visible tremors coursed along her spine as she opened her hand and pressed it against the damage she may have inflicted upon that wall; shoulders slumping in confusing, sudden and utterly bitter hopelessness as she shook her head, silently raging aginst the heavens; against the tides of fate and cursing existence itself. Breath catching in her throat, in that moment, she was a woman torn apart by a peculiar sense of loss that might as well have been personal, though it was not her own loss by any means.
When she trusted herself enough to be able to turn and face the other two again, her expression and stance was one that just dared either her employer or the would-be messenger to approach, or even speak to her: tension held her spine broomstick-straight, kept her head high and neck stiff as she reached over her shoulder and tore her warhammer free of its sheath, though she continued to shake like a leaf caught in a strong breeze; knees bending and legs parting as she assumed an offensive stance, merely nodding off-handedly as she heard someone nearby speak-- at the moment, her mind wasn't focused on who was in her immediate vicinity. Stepping forward, forehead creased by a deep frown, solitary eye narrowed into a malicious slit, the muscles in her shoulders and arms bunched as she swung that long-handled hammer at the nearest shelf, needing to destroy something, anything, that she could reach, lips peeling back in an almost animalistic sneer...
Only to jerk her arms downward swiftly, as the Arcanist turned to head back for the repository. The hammer's head thumped loudly, yet harmlessly against the floor as the emotional snare that the empath had become trapped within began to lift, freed from the invisible claws that had seized her mind and had not wanted to relent. Quickly, that hammer was sheathed once more as she raked a hand first through the rope-like serpentine coils of her hair, then down her face, drawing a deep breath as she stared ahead at nothing in particular. At last, the fog lifted from her eye as she would shrug and remain rooted to the spot for a moment; one hand lifting as an afterthought to catch the pouch of coin that the arcanist tossed her way. Not realizing that she still wasn't quite acting herself, she threw a curt nod of gratitude at Ivis for her payment and absentmindedly fastened the pouch to her belt, before stepping backward and slumping against the wall she'd more than likely damaged quite severely. "Fuck. Give me a minute and I'll be gone," Her gesticulation was sloppy and halting, almost incomprehensible. All she needed was a few minutes to catch her breath, regain her composure and she'd be on her way again, eye closing as the emotional onslaught she'd experienced continued to lessen, much like an unbearable weight slowly lifting.