Miss Surtr tilted her head slightly.
What met her eyes was a woman whose entire body was unnaturally pale. White hair that fell to her ankles, and an outer garment with a black base, deep-red accents, and numerous cross decorations. Her skin was as white as snow, paired with a face like jade. That jade-like countenance was adorned with a pair of scarlet eyes—and those scarlet eyes stared at Miss Surtr as though they had witnessed the bizarre sight of the sun rising in the west.
Warfarin, a Sanguinarch among the Sarkaz, one of Rhodes Island's old hands, an intellectual woman who had lived for countless years and whose power was fundamentally similar to that of vampires from another world. Her combat ability might not have been particularly outstanding, but if medical technology were ranked across Terra, Warfarin would undoubtedly be near the top of the first tier.
Miss Surtr rather liked Warfarin.
Because Warfarin was one of the few women in Sarkaz Babel Tower who did not speak to her in riddles—as Warfarin put it: "There's already enough open and covert strife around you. I don't want to get involved. Rather than take part in a war that'll become bloody sooner or later and that I have no chance of winning, I'd rather be friends with you." Although that explanation also sounded like a strange riddle to Miss Surtr, at least aside from that one statement, spending time with her was quite pleasant for a certain lump of stone.
And so Miss Surtr followed her newly established routine—
"Long time no see, Warfarin. How have you been lately? You look well."
Then she saw Warfarin's brows draw sharply together, followed immediately by a tactical lean backward.
"Not bad. Things have been going pretty well... You, what's with you suddenly