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perhaps i shall, ingram murmurs to her suggestion of visiting osiris' altar. perhaps, even, he would take his threadbones to it to do a reading, to see if the deathlord would speak to him through them.

his attention only strays for a moment before she begins to tell him of osiris' sisterwife and toula's patron goddess. of healing and magick, protector of women and possibly weaver of fates.

of course, murmurs ingram in approval. you may build whatever you wish here. for basilica was a safe place for it, he believes. and even when princess toula returned home he would tend to the altars she built; unknowing that this bonedeep knowledge was rooted in a knot of his own fate thread, branching off in a very different direction than the one he thought he walked.

eagerly, ingram listens to what toula has to tell him, offering tidbits of his own as the hours toiled away.