Altar of Twilight Dreams that almost feel real

Alya huffed and rolled her eyes at the other's dramaticism. He seemed to be all over the place with his actions and emotions, but as far as her nose could tell, there was nothing physically wrong with him. Perhaps his mind was addled. It didn't seem to be catching, but Alya still didn't see the point in wasting her acting skills on him. He was too wrapped up in himself to notice.

"What makes you think I'm going to do that?" she asked flatly, not sure the man was worth her time at all. The Altar had been delivering fruits less and less ripe, as of late. "I'm not some kind of monster, asshole. I'm a princess. Princesses don't just go around mauling people." Not for no reason, anyway. But, she supposed mercy was reason enough, at times. "Look, if you really want to die, I suppose I can oblige you. Roll over and put your head back. I'll be quick about it," she offered, not quite sure yet whether or not she planned to follow through. She shot an incredulous look over her shoulder, wondering what Hydra's take on the situation was.