Shards. Shards from dead people, if she understands the least bit of all this — and that's a big if. And you go around collecting them and shoving them into doors, and that's supposed to be a key,

Elves. Can't just have a bloody lock like normal folks, no. Shit's fucked up.

Distractedly, "Guess you better hop to it, then."

Not like she's going to be ripping ice out of the air. Melys shifts on the balls of her feet, antsy. Been a while since she’s had good steel to hand, though really it hasn’t been so long at all.

Feels the same as it ever did. Feels like a key, itself. Feels like it might do some opening real soon.

"What're we even expecting to find back here —?"

Subtext: Is a blade even going to do a bit of good.