Ida
"Ha! And what would a cremation do? Fire won't make them come back."

*Astrid's disdain for religion came to light as Aimar confronted her over the lack of a "Proper" Death process, she couldn't quite wrap her head around how people actually believed something like that could change anything, but religious followers were rather stubborn. And stubborn was a good word for the Macen, he was really getting on her nerves with him saying he'd happily kill her if need be, and she'd give him a fight if that's what he wished for. Some might argue he was brave to stand up against someone as ruthless as Astrid, but for the Silnari, it was simply dumb and cocky.*

"Alright then Mr. Righteous, show me how you will absolve the world of all evil and spread your clemency to the unjust."

*Using words she had heard from other religious people mockingly, she stored her old sword back into its sheath and in its stead, revealed her main combat weapon, a single-edged bladed polearm akin to a sovnya. Made mainly out of a black steel with blue lines going down the blade, the lines were cosmetic with daylight, but in low light conditions they could fool someone of where the limits of the blade really are. Astrid rotated her torso and aimed the tip of the blade in an angle to the ground with the edge upwards, adopting a defensive stance with her body behind the polearm. Still covered with her cloak and looking through some thin hairstrands, her stare finally shifted into one of provocation, almost daring Aimar to strike first.*
Doug
*His brows furrows slightly as he hears this. What was she on about? For someone as willing to use such distasteful magic as her, it's no surprise to him she doesn't care too much about traditions like cremating the dead, but she said it with such vitriol it almost confused him. He'd angered her, that much was plain, but for someone who used such magic, had she not expected such strong reactions from people already?*

*His grip tightened on his blade as she sheathed her sword and pulled out her glaive, pointing it at him. It seemed like the time of them crossing blades would be sooner than he expected, something he notes with a small amount of regret. He shouldn't have said the last part, especially not to one as violent as her. He could leave, now; he could turn into a bird, fly off, maybe, or simply try surrendering and begging for forgiveness—though he doubts the latter would do any good. And with regards to the former... His father hadn't raised him to be a coward. He would only flee should the fight be completely unwinnable.*

"...I don't wish to fight you, still. But if you leave me no choice in the matter, I *Will* Defend myself." *He says a few subvocal words, before using his left hand to bump the pommel of his messer. As soon as he does so, his blade ignites in flame, starting from the bottom of its length and travelling up it in less than a half of a second. Despite Astrid expecting for him to attack first, he doesn't, remaining where he is, watching her closely through the flames of his blade as it points directly to her. He's waiting on her to strike first.*
Ida
*Trusting her reflexes and speed, Astrid leaped forwards with remarkable speed, but perhaps clumsily or unluckily, the muddied ground prevented her from getting a proper launch and she was much slower in the air than she had expected, clearly telegraphing her attack to Aimar who promptly evaded the weak attack. She backstepped into her initial position after an embarrassingly terrible first strike, surely that'd be bad for initial impressions.*
Doug
*He manages to knock the glaive aside with his sword, extending his left hand, palm upward, fingers splayed, their tips pointing upward. As he raises that hand, a mottled mass of spiked roots and vines spring from the road, latching onto her calves and holding her in place. And with that, he retreats—he doesn't flee, instead repositioning, as he turns back around to face her.*