[ the communication device is fine. a little damaged on the outside, perhaps - there's very little a person can do to prevent things like that when it comes to technology, unless you're nintendo. there's something like resentment in morgana's golden eyes, or maybe it's betrayal. her mouth is closed tight, lips pursed together to keep herself from speaking too much. even so, she looks upon this person and sees only an angel in the moment; how many times had she prayed back then? (why now? why, why, why? why now? why why why why why)

the angel laughs. cruelly, morgana thinks. laughs at her assumption, laughs at how she mistakes her for an angel. this is no angel, she declares: this being is a demon. one of satan's kind.

morgana's expression tightens, then, the expression less so clearly keeping her from asking too many questions. no, this is the morgana who refuses to show herself. ]

I should have known. Your kind takes the appearance of things more preferable to lure in hapless victims. And to touch that thing so freely, without even a hint of revulsion at it's unnatural existence... This places house devils, is it? It's too cold to be Hell, so is this Limbo?