The children seemed to be obeying her, which she was glad to see, though she wished they'd have run away outright - and if they were displeased by her order, well, so be it. Lastbastion had bigger problems than the sourness of kits, and anyways, all her attention was again for Lirim, or at least whatever she could spare that was not distracted by the intense agony in her stomach and the blazing pain along her neck. She watched as they scrabbled for their stone, and noted that it seemed impossibly important to them - though why she could not fathom. Possibly, it was a memento to someone they'd lost - perhaps someone named...Bubba? What a ridiculous name. A kit's nickname. Not a name worthy of this reaction, surely. But apparently they didn't think so, and Lastbastion could not have been further from saying it again as she nodded, her breaths shallow now as the blood loss spun her head and made the saturated ground feel insubstantial beneath her paws.
"Yes, Lirim. You're Lirim. And I'm Lastbastion. No one is going to touch you. No one is going to touch the stone." she affirmed this for the many-eyed Veiler, who seemed desperately concerned that such a thing would occur, standing (such that it was) protectively over the functionally meaningless trinket. It occurred to her that it was rather pathetic - indeed, very pathetic - that they could be triggered so easily and so explosively with the verbalization of a single word. How pitiful their existence. How worthless and contemptible. Entirely unexpectedly, she felt her chest ache with sadness for the monster of darkness, felt a misery for what their life had devolved to, and felt a hopeless wish to cry for whoever they had lost that had broken them so soundly. She did not cry, but she did speak in a new tone, in a voice edged with some new understanding, some new mercy or sympathy.
"Lirim. Whatever has happened is not okay. Whatever will happen, I cannot promise will be okay. But right now, in this moment. you are okay. Everything is okay. No one will approach you. No one will approach the stone. We are okay. You are okay. Lirim." she did not know what to say to calm them down, and was carefully building herself up to fend off another attack, or preparing her spirit to be thrust from a body. She would have to possess a new one, she supposed, if this one was killed - provided that she did not get trapped within the dying form, of course. That was the ultimate fear of a possessing spirit, and while she had never before been stuck in a form, the thought was unnerving. She was prepared to die, but only momentarily, only in the sense that she could return in some passing loner's bod. She had not anticipated a permanent death, but it became a foremost concern, and brought urgency into her glazed yellow eyes. "Are you hearing me, Lirim?" asked the Shadowkeeper, as she tried to take a step backwards, putting more distance between herself and her attacker; she slipped on something, mud or blood or both, and had to force herself back up, teeth gritting.
"In this moment, things are okay. You will be left alone."
Now, praying to a sky she typically thought of as devoid of higher control, she turned her back on the creature and their stone, turning to face the children and Noreidimir. "Follow." she commanded, as she began to walk away. Every step carried her further and further from Lirim, and she did not look back at them, only hissed at her family and Clanmates to come with her. The last thing she needed was Helios with his accursed hero complex going and agitating the shadow-beast further, or Ambrosiakit making some sort of valiant attack like she had in the battle with the Exiles. She wanted to put distance aplenty between the aggressor and their victims, suspecting that what they needed was to be freed from the triggering individuals, desperately hoping that the removal of what had offended them would cool their temper.