Sister Alyx lifts her head at that.  She'd heard that Soma had proclaimed herself a god-king, but she'd thought the recounting to be only  political posturing... the same gesture of a hundred conquerors in history, a justification for breaching church and state's already laughable boundaries.  "The blood of the gods?"  she asks with a pleasant, coy smile.  "That sounds enticing."  Unconcerned about the threat of violence from Balrog or Soma, the sister's willow-thin form shifts subtly under her habit.  "So long as no folly ever shatters the claim's merit, that is an honor that could carry one far indeed."  Angling her face and leaning slightly closer.  "What god's blood runs in your veins?  Or your breasts, for that matter."  Oh, the word's utterly innocuous lilt, so devoid of shame or shock, somehow makes it palpable and imaginable, as if the word itself was something to be caressed.  One can practically hear the exquisite difference between the two women's forms.<br/><br/>She stands, splaying her slender hands on the table between her untouched utensils and eating vessels.  "Unless you two plan on having that fun here on the table, I believe we're at a resolution--" she word hangs, her mouth slightly agape as if she's just had the most frightfully devilish notion.  Something she opts not to speak just yet.  "--I'm quite glad to have met you all face to face.  Whence shall we depart?"