Bramblepoint We’re going to your place

in truth, scylla was not easily pushed. her temperament was often ill-mannered, but she held with her an eerie patience that stemmed from her father's own lack thereof and her mother's cool resilience. as the man moves forth and drops before her, she cannot help the sense of achievement that fills her. the exchange of commanding what she wanted and receiving it from the another pleased the wraith greatly -- though she does not show the satisfaction it brings. that was not the point, the young melonii reminds herself and moves on from the thought.

he cracks his eye open, and her own optics widen, observing with earnest the gruesome damage inflicted. the iris was shattered, the whiteness reduced to a blood-filled pool of nothingness. no reflection of the man lied within, it was beyond salvageable. reeling her head back after mere moments, scylla's assessment is clear. "your vision cannot be saved. i can offer you celandine to treat it, however..." she pauses, considering her verbiage carefully. perhaps a touch too eagerly, a more than slight willingness to do so etched into the tone of her words does the girl suggest, "it should be removed. i can do it for you... if you wish." in all fairness, it was factually true. the gash crudely sliced the iris in half, rendering the eye itself essentially useless to the man beyond aesthetic purposes.

however, did it truly need to be removed to ensure the continuation of his life? perhaps not. did she consider the experience of the removal to be a valuable learning experience regardless of the cost it bore? absolutely. scylla knew that her ethics were flawed, but either way, the stranger would be better off with her help than without -- justifying the cause regardless of the motives.