"You dislike the cold," which wasn't that strange. Less strange than the rest of this place and more easily understood than the concept of death. The Darkling raises and eyebrow, picking up a stick.

"Everything is weapon if you're strong enough." His own Small Science is dimmed. Dampened. The connection to the Heart of the World less sharp and immediate than it used to be and he hates it. Loathes that he needs to focus more, pull more, to get even a sliver of a reaction from the shadows found so easily in this place.

"We should talk to the- to Puck, perhaps he will have more answers."