SAFRIN
His answers are lacklustre and obvious. She'd been hoping for more insight, but then, with his mind broiled in sickness, perhaps that was too much to ask. "And where do you fall? Would you allow such a weapon to exist that it might be used for one week a year? Where would it remain for the rest of the time? With you?" Her brow raises. Madness slows the gears of his mind as infection works its way deep into his core. Safrin can feel a dark heat emanating off of him and it makes her stomach threaten to curdle.
"Are you able to accept the consequences of such a weapon?" Should it fall into the wrong hands, it would be yours that find themselves covered in blood.
"Are you able to accept the consequences of such a weapon?" Should it fall into the wrong hands, it would be yours that find themselves covered in blood.
