Truth was, she would never know what occurred to this man that had him changed, but her intuition was never that far from wrong. Something had occurred in him, and caused a thread to be pulled just out of place, turning him into a pile of thread as opposed to a complete tapestry. Before she could ask him if she had stuttered when he repeated the word ‘taint’, he quickly lied to her, hiding in the comfort of a shadow of truth. “Of course not.” Vera said coldly, the hubris of man once again claiming to be able to overcome that which is not theirs to behold. Her lover had been the same, driven by desire and hubris and the gods be damned audacity to touch what death had already taken. And now look at what had become of her? Who knew what havoc and consequence his journey to the underworld had cost him or those around him, but it was clear he was not ready to reconcile with his mistakes. “No, no. Man can go into a god's domain and come back without so much as a hair out of place. There are no stories that contradict this.” Her tone is not mocking, she is far too scared of what he has done to be, though the words themself could be seen as such.
“Far from it, boy.” Vera admitted, wondering briefly if her pupils had turned to slits in her frustration, some half shifted monstrosity giving her away. But no, he was far too curious for his own good, stepping past boundaries that were better left untouched, so she was sure her knowledge alone led him to this assumption. “What you intended makes no difference here and now. You cannot go there again.” Her throat tightened, her desire to use the hypnotism on him to make him less an idiot tempting, but his willpower was far too strong. Would it even work on a soul like his? She was not eager to try. Besides, hypnotism was reserved exclusively for feeding, at least for her. “You're right — my mistake. The gods are always forgiving on those who trespass. And surely they will believe that he followed you up with no persuasion.” There's a sigh that followed this, accompanied by a tightened grip on his arm. She removed the hand on her chest in favor of placing it on his shoulder. There is no real strength behind the grip, only hoping the touch will bring him down from whatever clouds he was rested upon. “I'm not trying to fight with you. I am simply giving you a warning you would do best to heed.” For a moment, it's another uncomfortably long stare, but she can't bear to look into his defiant eyes, so she settled for his clenched jaw. “Do you even regret what you have done?” The question, one she would kill to ask her old lover, is now thrusted upon a boy of maybe thirty, who is probably in over his head. Yet, an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret, just a wistful glance in the direction of undoing, and she would know there was still some saving to him. She finally met his gaze again, searching for some symblance of regret.
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