Sure, she's so grateful to trade being the captive of some soul-eating demons to being lost in the Wyld together with a different soul-eating demon.

Ahem.

Probably the sarcasm isn't befitting her station or something, but. This has been a crazy time.

"Do you think we're still in the West?" she asks instead, squinting at the glass their tiny jerryrigged sailboat seems to be sailing on. Which is, at least, less weird than the last thing they sailed over. Or the noodle storm.

...Probably best not to think about the noodle storm too much.

"We are, technically, still sailing. So the concept of water is still being gestured at. Which means we are not entirely beyond the Pole's influence. So. ...Maybe?"

"It's been getting colder, though..."

"Northwest still counts as west."

"Well, hopefully it counts as leaving."

"What, you have important business to get back to?"

"...My normal life. And my responsibilities."

"I think the Threshold won't mind waiting a little bit longer for whatever imperialist exploitation your responsibilities entail."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Uh huh. What are you doing then, princess?"

"Judging disputes. Enforcing the law. Helping ensure stability."

"Making sure everyone's kneeling at the correct height to fasten the yoke around their necks."

She looks away, scowling. 

"You're not arguing~ because you know I'm right~!" she singsongs.

"Just keep telling yourself that."

"I will. Because it's true."

Humph.

"You're cute when you pout, you know."

- Eep.

Giggle.

"Should I not have said that out loud?"

She mumbles something indistinct. 

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?"

"You're a pest." That doesn't sound like what she was mumbling earlier.

"I think technically the word is Anathema now."

"The annoyingness feels more relevant, right now."