Watching and listening to the exchange between Ingarl and Eurikova, Phylia can’t help but wonder if the ability that Eurikova mentioned in reference to souls was at all similar to her own.  It certainly sounded that way, but Phylia had no idea where her own ability to do so had originated, and she suspected that Eurikova’s was not of the same origin.  Something to ask her about later, perhaps.  “I can help with the resurrection part, although he might not end up quite the same as how he started.”<br/><br/>Edging around the room as Ingarl moved towards Eurikova, making her intentions quite clear in the process, Phylia had something different in mind.  There were still another pair of drow to be dealt with, and Phylia always preferred those that were still somewhat active, if not too much so.<br/><br/>Sliding up behind the webbed drow (and making no attempt to hide her approach), Phylia runs her hands over what parts of her body are not encased in the webbing.  “I’m not sure what caused your little spat with the others before we got here, but I’m certainly not going to pass up an opportunity like this.  Your kind are such a<span style="font-style: italic">rare</span>treat…”  Settling her roaming hands, they instead start to reform themselves into larger streamers of ooze as she siphons off mass elsewhere on her body into them.  Creeping across the captive drow’s body, one spirals upward under her armor and across her stomach and back before slipping under her bodice, while the other curls around her hips and ass before looping back between her legs.  “Since we seem to have time to spare, I’ll give you the choice rather than forcing it on you - did you want this over quickly, or do you want a send-off first?”