The hilt is carefully tucked away; it's within reach to grab it, but Merrill carefully rearranges her pouches and fabrics to keep it mostly hidden from view. She can feel it sitting on her belt, though, and that's a comfort. A piece of history, right at her hip -- it's almost overwhelming, but now isn't the time.

"Well- I'm admittedly curious about how that spider died and who or what killed it." At the same time- ugh. Spiders. "Everyone else is probably still moving forward- there could be another main area up ahead that we could meet them at? Or meet- whoever or whatever else is in here."