She looks at the principality, her shell's head once again listing to one side. Was it not obvious from her shell's gruesome decoration?
"All of Hell."
And she returns to observing the tiny ephemera skittering their ways around this place, this mortal city. Tiny, she finds them, and distantly amusing in their rushes to escape the deluge, but mere distractions and no more. On the contrary, she discovers that the hum of celestial magic as the principality manifests some inconsequential object is infinitely more interesting. The principality seems overly concerned with keeping its shell and hers clean, but that is not what so draws her attention. It is the solid object, rather, the one that has made itself tangible and real not merely a construct. Interesting. Useless for anything besides mortal comfort, however, which Illyria would find perplexing were that a thing she deigned to care about. Which she does not, so she will make no comment upon it.
no subject
"All of Hell."
And she returns to observing the tiny ephemera skittering their ways around this place, this mortal city. Tiny, she finds them, and distantly amusing in their rushes to escape the deluge, but mere distractions and no more. On the contrary, she discovers that the hum of celestial magic as the principality manifests some inconsequential object is infinitely more interesting. The principality seems overly concerned with keeping its shell and hers clean, but that is not what so draws her attention. It is the solid object, rather, the one that has made itself tangible and real not merely a construct. Interesting. Useless for anything besides mortal comfort, however, which Illyria would find perplexing were that a thing she deigned to care about. Which she does not, so she will make no comment upon it.