[It's what people are saying. The leader of Zymandis got what he deserved. A fitting end. Poetic, even, according to some voices she had overheard. Perhaps it was. Sieglinde has read her share of revenge stories throughout the years, and this certainly didn't seem so far away from how those tended to end. Storybook style.
After all, he'd dedicated his life to this pursuit, and here ALASTAIR was, living and he dead, setting up bombs in his basement. Here stands the Green Witch, papers and books filched from the man's laboratories stuffed into her satchel and the crook of her elbow. Here stood Loki, god of mischief, takings pictures of it all.
She doesn't know what to say, though. Doesn't think it's best to pry, but also can't abide not doing something. Not when a part of her can't shake the feeling that there's something going on here that she might not be able to understand. That makes him melancholy somehow.
Quietly, thoughtfully, Sieglinde peels one bloody glove off her hand... and reaches for Loki's.]
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After all, he'd dedicated his life to this pursuit, and here ALASTAIR was, living and he dead, setting up bombs in his basement. Here stands the Green Witch, papers and books filched from the man's laboratories stuffed into her satchel and the crook of her elbow. Here stood Loki, god of mischief, takings pictures of it all.
She doesn't know what to say, though. Doesn't think it's best to pry, but also can't abide not doing something. Not when a part of her can't shake the feeling that there's something going on here that she might not be able to understand. That makes him melancholy somehow.
Quietly, thoughtfully, Sieglinde peels one bloody glove off her hand... and reaches for Loki's.]