<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/1/16/Fallon.jpg)</div>Fallon raises her brows at the gravity of Sword's concise explanation, then scans the roadside again as she answers.  "You are efficient with your words, I see," she smiles, a tinge of sadness in it at the grave history.  "I... may have heard of your master."<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 0.7em;">~Knowledge: Nobles roll sent, Odin... it's pretty sad~</span><br/>"Or, well, perhaps not.  I'm sorry to hear of that tragedy."<br/><br/>She wants to ask what it's like being in a harem, but that's selfish.  It appears that the warforged has a soul after all, in spite of the rumors, and perhaps the warforged-- er, the girl-- is even mourning.  Fallon's first instinct, though, is to ask how Sword could stand having no freedom and being objectified so... but is that what warforged do?  She was made to be a servant.  Is that a terribly ignorant thing to think, that some warforged are locked into their task forever, unless they break free?<em>Of course it is,</em>she thinks.<em>Any species can be a machine.</em><br/><br/>Of course, being Fallon, the depth of that thought is pushed out by wondering if the warforged gives good massages or is a good lover, or maybe if she enjoys other girls?  Or misses being a concubine, needing a little comf--<em>Oh, terribly rude questions to ask, of course.  Horrible.  Push those away.  For now, that is.</em><br/><br/>"You must," she hesitates to inwardly retract and replace the word she intends, "care deeply for him."  She smiles at that, but noncommittally.