The library. He knows where that is, and in fact had studied there often (in isolation, in fear that someone would see his efforts and mock him-). Gripping his hand firmly, he starts them toward the direction — through the manor doors, down long trailing rugs, past discomforting painted portraits and decorative mirrors. He speaks quietly as he walks — speaks a soft and easily practiced prayer for Dani's protection, for his safety and comfort in this moment, so that he may feel more at peace after what had struck his spirit so profoundly.

They eventually walk more side by side than Diarmuid leading, but he still clutches the sweaty palm in his hand still. It would be good, to keep being an anchor.

"I did not see much... I was afraid of what I could have witnessed, if I lingered longer."

He looks down the hall, frowning.

"This place, it's both a haven and a storm. There is so much that can ease, but what can harm will harm us profoundly. Does — that make sense?"