[ she'd received the network message, they all had. and for some reason, she'd asked aristaeus to accompany her into the woods, in lieu of morpheus. it'd been an easy choice, in her mind — he's a hunter, he's proficient with a knife, he'd undoubtedly be more than helpful if they encounter something nefarious or dangerous.

she doesn't trust him, but she's counting on that unpredictability to potentially be a boon, in this scenario.

they make their way past myrtille, heading deeper into the fog-laden forest, and aristaeus digs in his pockets for a smoke and something to light it with, as she walks beside him in companionable silence until this point.

and has to huff a short laugh, at his question. ]

The question should be, how many are they still short, in their prerequisite for this blood sacrifice?

[ she shakes her head. ]

Obviously they haven't filled their quota, yet.