[She watches Medea's finger circle the lip of the glass intently, noticeably. It would be easy to do it just like that, now, here. They both understand that. It is a part of the game. So, making eye contact, she drinks again, returns the glass. Trust, perhaps - or something else.
If Medea doesn't often hunt for sport, Waltaquin thinks that must at least partially be because she has little time for hobbies. At the very least, this last meeting between them can be fun.]
A little, albeit not as surprised to hear you calling it a promise now, heheh. [Waltaquin's few promises are made in darkness at the edge of the abyss. Medea has no need of them.
But here they both are.]
I don't just raise my dead, you know - though it is most efficient when accumulating souls.
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If Medea doesn't often hunt for sport, Waltaquin thinks that must at least partially be because she has little time for hobbies. At the very least, this last meeting between them can be fun.]
A little, albeit not as surprised to hear you calling it a promise now, heheh. [Waltaquin's few promises are made in darkness at the edge of the abyss. Medea has no need of them.
But here they both are.]
I don't just raise my dead, you know - though it is most efficient when accumulating souls.