The Fool

Sibyl eased as the tension broke. This was one spirit who wasn't looking to be exorcised too soon.
The boy seemed almost surprised when she spoke, sending another rush of satisfaction. When
you've stayed with family for a while, it was nice to know your effect on strangers. Her effect,
it turned out, was stronger than previously assumed. The boy recovered with ease. Hard to
hold a conversation perhaps, when one assumes the other is dead. He offered his name,
and she returned the favour. "Sybil, of the Pallas line." She introduced herself as
she had been taught. "And I've heard stranger." This was true.

She followed his gaze back to the crypt, sending wave of nausea in her gut when the
decay entered her nose again. She would like to get far away from that place, and
soon. "The dead you say?" She spoke, brows raised. "Not sure if they
wander, but it's certainly their home. Stories tend to have truth to
them though, I had a hard time finding anything that still breathed." The
boy seemed to make a great effort seeming casual, but whether it was
the crypt or simply social anxiety it was hard to say. She smiled at his
last comment, a strange one. She wouldn't say she was a spirit
outright, but she enjoyed tugging at the other yearling's
active imagination.

Now it was her turn to ask a strange question. "Now where exactly am I?" And why
are you blue? The second remained unspoken [with difficulty]. She'd save that one for later.

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