Taking her cup of tea in her hands, she continues to listen, the little shadowplay in her head moving on with his words. Ruin, rebuilding, and then more ruin and rebuilding, and a suffocating tangle it must be. Not a happy existence for either of them. Both of them being the other's chains. But like he said, what could be done?

"You said he's the embodiment of the incomprehensible. So the impossible might not be as far off as it seems?"

She's not some scholar, well versed in fiddling words and exact ritual. Nor does she have on the headband that somehow clears her thoughts, draws that specific intelligent focus. No, right now, she's just Fever, muddling her way through with guesswork.