"Yikes Vanilla," Lancelot spoke. "Do you often get into complots that compromise the destiny of the world?"
"Sigh... Why didn't I just stay in my house reading a novel, cleaning my room, or touching myself that night?" She chuckled with sarcasm and cynicism, shaking her head as she looked up at the ceiling.
"Vanilla, we can do it!" Rowie said.
"It's in the least of my worries whether we can do it or not, Rowie."
"Well, Vanilla, Rowie," Sir William Oaths spoke once again, now his light even more tenuous and low. "two last things."
"What's it? Can it be any worse already?" Vanilla said.
"Your eye Vanilla," He commented about it, something that she felt would eventually happen. "It is a mark of that being you work, am I right?"
"Yes... A physical mark. I already know how bad is that." She said, with her shoulders and face expressing even more pessimism. Her pentacle eye glowed, its golden strings flowing like molten metal.
