[color=c5d1ae][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/SKJAogh.png[/img]
ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｆａｍｉｌｉａｒ　ｓｅｎｓａｔｉｏｎ[/center][/color]

It would appear that the man with burning skull didn't warp and shift. Strange. Was there some sort of condition towards her transformation? Or did the burning skull give some kind of immunity?

Though, her attention was split between her thoughts and listening to the wordy man.

How many had the witch insulted? That was an interesting question--where it not for the immediate issue one would come across when pondering such an issue. As always, her memories--and lack thereof--said zero. Her heart and instinct spoke towards an unimaginably large number.

[color=c5d1ae]"A rather daft question."[/color] She rebuked. Her eye flickered towards the manic one before briefly glancing at the man with grey skin. Her movements were exaggerated as if to accentuate whatever malcontent and spiteful point she was trying to make. [color=c5d1ae]"I would presume that you could infer the answer on your own rather than belie on rhetoric."[/color]

She paused for a brief second.

[color=c5d1ae]"Oh, and I speak [i]solely[/i] to provoke."[/color] The witch rebutted. 

As if to wave off the man, she once again turned her attention to the man with flame in skull. To make it worth his while?

She thought for a brief moment to consider how she could do such a thing. Only one thing came to mind. If it was the price to pay for knowledge of the flesh--especially what was esoteric, then she would easily pay it.

[color=c5d1ae]"Well, I can't quite do it to you here, but if the need arises..."[/color]

Her finger dragged across the top of her other hand. Her own flesh tore and parted as her nail dragged towards her wrist, a laceration forming across the length of her hand. Her nerves shuttered. She could smell and nearly taste her own blood. Yet she didn't pause or shudder. It was too familiar to do so.  It was something that was ingrained into her soul. To accept this pain. To not yield to it.

Her blood seeped out of the fresh wound. Before it could spill on the ground, the blood stopped. She held her hand up to reveal the extent of the damage to the man with the burning head and those around him.

Just as easily as her finger tore through her flesh, the blood began to shift and contort into the wound as if time was reversing. But it was nothing as refined as altering chronology. No, it was brutal and primitive. It was just as painful--if not, more. Her flesh stretched as muscle shifted and reformed. Her skin darted into itself to hide what was just exposed. Just as easily as the wound was created, it was hidden. The witch felt every unnatural movement as she contorted her own flesh whole.

[color=c5d1ae]"...I can offer my services."[/color]

It would appear that she didn't quite understand what the man meant when he said to make it worth his while unless he had some very strange peculiarities. The grin that had formed through that ordeal nothing to help--unless he was oddly into that sort of thing.

As if that display meant nothing to her, she turned back to the altered one.

[color=c5d1ae]"And please do stick your hand inside."[/color]