Maea
It's not a demon at your door
Sealing the pact in a breath of soft laughter, Maea felt a warmth settle into her chest that had nothing to do with fire. It tided her over the cryptic non-confirmation that her suspicion was true, and softened her reaction to a simple reproachful look at Asta - one that came without words, or any real feeling behind it.
The compliment did surprise her, but she looked rather pleased. "Thank you. What do we do now? Just leave them, or something else?" Burn them, bleed them - apparently there were a lot of options, according to Charlie. Gazing more closely at the sculpture he had brought, Maea had to admit that there was a certain aesthetic to it. Her feelings about the materials aside, it clearly stemmed from a culture unfamiliar to her, both primitive and blunt in a way that certainly made her feel things.
"Is this a common style from your time?" she wondered, craning her neck back to look up at him.
The compliment did surprise her, but she looked rather pleased. "Thank you. What do we do now? Just leave them, or something else?" Burn them, bleed them - apparently there were a lot of options, according to Charlie. Gazing more closely at the sculpture he had brought, Maea had to admit that there was a certain aesthetic to it. Her feelings about the materials aside, it clearly stemmed from a culture unfamiliar to her, both primitive and blunt in a way that certainly made her feel things.
"Is this a common style from your time?" she wondered, craning her neck back to look up at him.
It's just your shadow on the floor
