“Butcher?” Alice raises an eyebrow as she shifts her stance. Decidedly, correcting him that she was technically an orphan matron, whilst sporting a bloody apron, wasn't exactly a good idea. Sure, she could conjure up a vorpal cleaver, though the Vorpal Blade works just as good.
Her only correction is swiftly moving out of the direct line of fire from the creature by dissolving into bright, blue butterflies. Once Alice is solid again, she shifts her attention onto the beast, instead. It's hard to get in a good swing of her knife when she sees it fly across the grass.
“Perhaps,” She knows by now not to second-guess a Londoner on their strange preferences of what they consider musical. “You might call it 'sonorous' if you call Whitechapel home.”
Unphased by her predicament, she debates how hard it would be to sink her knife into the creature's chest, while carrying on a conversation as if she's discussing a symphony, “I don't mean to nitpick, sir, but wouldn't you like to keep your instrument intact?”
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Her only correction is swiftly moving out of the direct line of fire from the creature by dissolving into bright, blue butterflies. Once Alice is solid again, she shifts her attention onto the beast, instead. It's hard to get in a good swing of her knife when she sees it fly across the grass.
“Perhaps,” She knows by now not to second-guess a Londoner on their strange preferences of what they consider musical. “You might call it 'sonorous' if you call Whitechapel home.”
Unphased by her predicament, she debates how hard it would be to sink her knife into the creature's chest, while carrying on a conversation as if she's discussing a symphony, “I don't mean to nitpick, sir, but wouldn't you like to keep your instrument intact?”