Ingrid's cries gradually subsided, her arms hanging weakly at her sides. "Ég gerði það ekki..." she whispered weakly.
Caym gradually loosened his hold on Ingrid. "I guess that has pacified her," he pondered. "She was uttering words in a foreign language. I had thought her most distressing memories would be being sent to Sylvania. It appears... she did not experience a joyful childhood either in Ásjáheimr."
He attempted to distance himself from Ingrid, but she clung tightly to the end of his clothes.
"Your Highness," Caym spoke gently. "You might consider releasing your hold. I fear you might regret your actions once you've had a chance to calm down later."
Ingrid remained silent, her hold tightening even further.
Caym inquired, "Is there something you want?"
The cold wind swept by, seconds ticking away. However, Caym maintained his silence, patiently awaiting Ingrid's reply.
