Vayne tucks his hands behind his back in a controlling knot lest he find the urge to use them stronger, feet solid and flat, a shoulder's width apart. For several moments, he gazes upon Ajora, cold, pale eyes unfeeling, but lips spreading into a smile so like one from some weeks ago. "Let me bask in the glowing, Holy Light of golden wings innumerable." His head inclines for a moment, polite, perhaps. "That which you have sought, come, has it, to your grasp without hindering recourse?"