"What step," comes a delicately accented voice full of both a distant sort of disgusted horror and bemusement. Alexandrie has emerged from the kitchens, the pop of a cork releasing from a bottle coming along with her.

It had been generalized horror, but of the normal human variety. Not until now, having staunchly decided to get into the cooking wine, has she seen anything that does not belong in nature at all. It's as fascinating as it is nauseating, which is considerably. But the feelings someone has of the wildly unnatural pulsing... things were strong enough to pull the spirit playing Rolant from his enlightening commentary on her baseness and naïveté to join the others, and watching him contort into a bent, shrouded, warp of a thing had been almost fiercely pleasant even as trying to follow the grotesquerie of it had made her head ache and her stomach turn.

"How may something with no feet to speak of mind such a thing?"

This is fine.