He took a last look at nothing in particular before standing up, and while their Lord knew why they were here, he was finding it difficult to summon the interest in their tasks. Oh he knew they were important, and he knew that they would become interesting once more. The pressure of what he had inside him, no, of what he had become, was building up again. Pushing aside trivial things like other races and focussing on his needs alone.<br/><br/>But it wasn't so far yet, he was still in control. And would remain in control for some time to come. No, he knew this girl by her name, though who exactly was the other? As he walked over to them, he spoke with his deep, distant voice. "You're making good progress on the scroll Zjasha, though who is this girl you've brought with you?"<br/><br/>He asked merely as a show of good manners, and didn't expect an answer. Instead, he stepped towards the girl and laid his clawlike hand on her forehead. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if he could at any moment crush her skull, just for the fun of it. Though he never put any pressure on her, simply touching her. A slight tingling sensation crept up Miria's back, travelling along the length of her tattoo-like pigmentation.<br/><br/>"Miria." He stated simply, before adding more information as it came to him. "Your younger sister." He took a step back to take a better look, his battered cloak fluttering in the light breeze. The door to the open terrace overlooking the city was open, dark orange beams of sunlight barely finding their way into the deep room.<br/><br/>Then it came, one of those jerks on his soul, he would have cringed if he hadn't lived with them for so long now. Instead, he smiled lightly, shifting the position of his head, and in an almost playful tone asked; "Are you a good dancer?"