[ The boy marks himself as one of Anastasia's, and for that alone, Alecto deems him worthy enough of her regard. But only barely. She tilts her head, as if to get a better look at him. ]

Would you offer me something, if I was?

[ Alecto can read the regret and fear in his body. It is plain and obvious for all to see, and old, etched in like wrinkles. Such a thing must be horribly heavy, like chains. Alecto wonders where he sleeps. She wonders what he thinks morning is. ]

You are a Tomb-keeper. You need not fear me like the others do. [ Alecto rises and approaches, her movements ugly. ] You are not like Anastasia. [ Alecto continues, mostly to herself. ] You are like Samael. I am sorry.