[OPEN] Sing for your supper

Subtlety was not in Edy's vocabulary or part of her usual repertoire. Even so, as her pale drinking-partner seemed impervious to her unequivocal phrasing, the teenager wasn't bothered. Though it might always seem like Edy was putting on a show, if she was, she was her only viewer. "Well, look who has been practicing his tongue-twisters." She quipped with a delighted smile. Having been raised in the Launceleyn compound (read: horrific family-training facility), Edy had actually been brought up with some of the finest tutors in the land. Not that you'd be able to tell given her current vernacular habits and less than savoury ways of being. Even so (or perhaps specifically because of it), the Launceleyn girl was a big fan of word play, or any sort of linguistic witticisms, since she heard them so rarely in the courts or on the battlefield. "They can hop, bounce, roll, or otherwise trundle their bitey asses with surprising speed." Edy said knowledgeably. "I've taken to squashing the squashes, goring the gourds, and..." Therein her wit ran dry for the moment, and so with unabashed confidence Edy merely shrugged. "And simply burning the rest." Raising a cupped palm, a ball of fire appeared there glowing softly before Edy snuffed it out with a grin. "So gods and stuff are common place where you come from?" The teenager asked curiously. Religion wasn't even a thing where she'd come from, much less as common place and eyebrows was making it out to be.