Neda had covered her mouth, wept, and quietly bit her lips as Asrael recounted the tale- more for himself, than for her. Despite having lived through such an agonizing experience, he had never once frowned, nor had he broken from his silent staring into the countertop. She imagined that she would never have been capable of telling such a painful story- her voice so often got stuck in her throat whenever she attempted to speak her brother’s name, alone. But he- he had stalwartly continued without pause. In truth, telling the recount had somehow allowed him to distance himself from the memories- the intrusive imagery of his Master’s fat bubbling as the long tendrils of adipose tissues hung from his abdomen to liquefy in the fire’s heat. Panic struck her as she could see Asrael’s eyes harden again and assume that stoic glare. She liked him this way, despite her obvious trepidation and worry- she enjoyed talking to him, rather than being yelled at.

“W-what did he do? That magic- what was it for?” She breathed a sigh of relief as he assumed that weakened state once more and pondered the question.

“I have been asking myself that same question for years... it might have been something as easy as a distraction, but-…" He shook his head thoughtfully before continuing with a scratch of his chin: “I do not think so... those runes were far too elaborate for a simple distraction.” For the duration of his talk, she had forgotten all about her pit- the white haired sandlurker and her intrusions. Even after he had finished his recount, the calming effects lingered, but she dreaded hearing more talks of magic now that she was still recovering from its oppressive usage.

“C-could it have been to give you something pretty to look at? Like a goodbye?” She knew, when saying it, that it had been foolish. But having seen the beautiful radiance of Asrael’s magic, she had envisioned the blast as something just as beautiful- a burst of energy to illuminate that big city Asrael always talked about. He turned to blink at her with disbelief, before... seemingly agreeing.

“That would be just like him- that sentimental fool...” He muttered. He cracked his neck back and forth before standing from the stool, only for Neda’s desperate hand to unwillingly grab him in a reflexive movement. His skin was as cold and dry as ever- his eyes conveyed his surprise, rather than the fury she had come to expect from him.

“P-please stay... I don’t wanna be alone right now. I’m scared she’ll come get me if you go.” She was not lying- not entirely. She was scared the girl would come for her as soon as she eyed her part of the divine ‘plan’ as completed. Asrael cleared his throat to explain: “I get the sense you want something from me which I cannot deliver. You and Eleanor...” But he could not bring himself to say what.

Neda shook her head and tightened her grip on his coat to whisper: “I want to help you, but I also wanna be safe from things like that-…” She bit back her profanities, before continuing: “you’re mean and cold. I’ve been asking myself why I like you and why I like being with you and I think it’s because your kind of mean isn’t... the bad kind of mean?” As confused as she was, she could see by his expression that he was far more bewildered with her words. She cleared her throat and nervously continued:

“I-I g-guess what I’m trying to say is... you might not think you’re nice to be around, but you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met... I guess that doesn't really say much, either..." She trailed off and looked up to see his fading attention. Quickly, she continued: "You’re an ass to talk to most of the time, but you save people left and right. Gerathar and Lenda were the opposite- they were nice to talk to, but both of them were terrible people. Words don’t really mean much, but the stuff you do does. So, as long as I’m able to, I wanna be with you and help you change things.”

She stood from her seat and eyed the confused necromancer with a benevolent smile. Without warning, she closed her arms around his cold, unmoving shoulders and brought him into a tight embrace, only stopping her squeeze of him to process the shock of feeling a brief, passing touch to her side- as if he was struggling to attempt to return the gesture. Still squeezing her companion tightly, she said: “I’m pretty beat, y’know... but I don’t wanna go to sleep alone. C-can you come with me and watch over me?” Asrael parted from their embrace to look at her, again reminding her that she was, in his eyes, an idiot.

“Absolutely not.” He muttered. She hung her head and exhaled dejectedly, but took pride in the fact she had, at least, tried. She glanced over towards the stair to look wistfully at the portal to their sleeping chamber. Raising her foot, she set her mind on braving the darkness, only to have him grab her by the wrist as he turned towards the kitchen to mutter: “And neither are you. We’ve work to do and until we’ve found a way of dealing with the Violator, you are not to sleep alone. Your loud snores will outdeafen her footsteps.” An involuntary smile split her lips apart as she heard that lingering weakness confess once again in between his words, that... Her cheeks blushed as she followed her Master into the basement to join Ellie in her bloody efforts.