[At this moment, in the lull after the story, she doesn't have to focus on herself. A-ya doesn't want any fake reactions, a pleasant "you're right" or "that's interesting." What he wants--and what she rarely gives--are her own thoughts. She can speak as freely as she likes, even if he gives her that mean smirk in return.]
Something worse than death, even. [She speaks softly. The atmosphere almost seems to demand it.] What a spiteful ghost.
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Something worse than death, even. [She speaks softly. The atmosphere almost seems to demand it.] What a spiteful ghost.