>>5275120>>5275117>>5275035>>5275004>>5274966>>5274963>>5275152>Inform her of her brief undead substitute.>Ask if her dream was pleasant.“..Had pleasant dreams, I presume?” You fold your arms. “Because it certainly seemed like it. You drooled all over my coat.”
“Bah. I’ll cover the cleaner’s fee.” Ava rolls her eyes. “And my dreams were <span class="mu-i">wonderful</span>. I was in my childhood bedroom atop a tower, where I need only worry for what I was to have for dinner and what to read before bed–no more stress over the welfare of any troublesome nobles or knights or dolls.”
“Is that so? Then it’s a good thing I plucked you from it before you refused to leave.” You reaffix your glove to your cut hand. “We’d have been stuck with the zombie for the rest of the trip down.”
“An undead?” She raises a brow.
“We had to appropriate one as a short term escort. If you want her, she’s all yours.” You point out the undead, who has begun to (not so sneakily) slink away from the party whilst you took care of the dhampir. The corpse nearly shrieks in surprise as you point her out again.
“Bah! What is it now..?!” The zombie whines, hands furled up in frustration. “Your guide is awake! Can’t I go already..?! I’m getting sick of all your flirting..”
An indescribable look washes over the dhampir’s face at the sight of her. “..That’s–your–..” Ava stutters, unable to string together the right thing to say. “..That’s one of my father’s wives. Ingrid’s mother.“
“Ingrid? The half-zombie?” You echo, eyes narrow–the mature, mysterious, dark-eyed sorceress cultist? “<span class="mu-i">That’s</span> her mother? She’s picking her nose.”
“Yes, well.. it’s not like she’ll know about her. Or my father, or me. Her time has long since gone.” Ava averts her eyes. “We should leave her. It’s not right to drag her around like this. She’s just a stranger now.”
“What are you whispering about?” The undead places her hands on her hips. “Are you done?”
>Maybe you should bring her along. She could prove useful with dealing with Ingrid.>You should to leave her behind. Toting around Ingrid’s mother like some bargaining chip is only sure to make her spiteful.>Write-In. 