[ She glances at him. She could let him go, but... he is not of these woods. He would likely not survive and she has not means to get him back where he belongs, not without some arrangements being made. Besides. She wants him, in that deep and hungry way of the witch, she wants to keep him, even if she has to kill him to stop his complaining. He'd be just as lovely mounted on a pin. A sigh. Then she rises and comes to sit and the desk in front of him, the small rose pendant around her neck hanging in his view. A fae kissed thing that did not wither. ]
no subject
You live yet, your fate is not so dreadful.