[Her voice is quiet, a little raw. Precision, again. She doesn't lie to him. She is nuanced, often, and keeps many things to herself, but this is the price of what he's asked for, one of the few she's set, plainly stated. She will, she thinks, she hopes, know the shape of some of the nameless things when she hears his answer, that they will coalesce, collapse out of wave forms, when he casts enough light to see just how much horror and remorse and grief are staining the maw of her id.
She never blinks, watching him, like her eyes could devour him waiting for an answer.]
[ Spam ]
[Her voice is quiet, a little raw. Precision, again. She doesn't lie to him. She is nuanced, often, and keeps many things to herself, but this is the price of what he's asked for, one of the few she's set, plainly stated. She will, she thinks, she hopes, know the shape of some of the nameless things when she hears his answer, that they will coalesce, collapse out of wave forms, when he casts enough light to see just how much horror and remorse and grief are staining the maw of her id.
She never blinks, watching him, like her eyes could devour him waiting for an answer.]
You know which she. The girl who wore them.