The Tangle Hands to your hymnals, hell's at the door

An unfamiliar title, but not one that sounded like an insult.  He didn't appear hostile, nor did he appear aligned in any way with that woman.  So her threats were empty.  Either that or her forces were smaller than Rosalyn reckoned.  She let out a soft hmph, satisfied, and her presence warmed somewhat as he introduced himself.

Rosalyn.  He hadn't asked, but then he'd know what her proper title was.  His name did not strike any familiarity with her, nor did his appearance, so if they'd met she'd forgotten.  I do, at least out.  As to where your going, I'd need to know the goal before I could say.  She smiled with a hint of humor, a fact accentuated by the lopsided twist of scars across her face.

WC: 128