A voice could be heard, a whisper that could have been lost in the running of a open water fountain, or the errant breeze that rustled a House banner. "What does one call a compulsive auctioneer obsessed with death...?" The source of the voice could not be found, but its presence hung like an omnipresence fog in the area...only Kelz'thalas was the only one that could hear the question.
The silence rarely stayed long enough to ignore suspicion or trouble. Her form stiffening just as the melody of words tangled in the length of her ear. Both brows furrowed as she paused in her patrol within the Bazaar. With a cursory glance towards the auctioneers, she verified they were safe, at least in this moment. Before considering what answering a question like this might entail. It didn't strike her as a joke to make light of the implications in death or otherwise. And given her limited knowledge from undeath's corruption, she was not exactly versed in offering an appropriate response.
Yet...
"...Do I hear... 1.... 2... gone with the wind? Or maybe... a morbid bidder..?"
The answer held some humor, but it didn't really feel right rolling off of her tongue. But if she was entertaining unliving spectors, perhaps this would sate their inquire and let the brokers be. Afterall, the city thrived on its auctions of commerce and otherwise.
Thank you for the ask, Anon! \o/ Hope I got the answer right, I suck at these XD!