Fever takes the plate, listening well, for that is her role here. To listen, and recieve what secrets are to be placed in her keeping, to tend them well because they have been given at all. It hardly feels fair, all this telling - but then again, the Madgod can read her thoughts. Her secrets are not so far away, what of them she has. Perhaps Macaelius can peer in there as well, and her head is but an open box to those with power. Oh, there's an unsettling thought. She doesn't like it.

"Do they remember who they used to be? Or does that go away as the world gets convinced?"

It's a good tart, when she bites into it. Her host sets a very fine table for tea.