A bar was typically the first thing that they visited upon reaching the town once more, as natural as human retreating back into one of their little hovels. Neit wasn't acting quite normal, through, or at least what counted as normal for her; There was no cigar in her mouth, and the drink in her hand remained practically untouched. The expression on her face was serious, silent, reflective.
"...I don' thinke its'a good idea stayin' savvy with Aryyna... Bitch will murder 'us first instance we starte lookin' unprofitable..." She finally spoke up, albeit whilst looking into the table. "...Other ways of doin' this, there are... My daughter is a priestess, you see."
An incredibly spiteful look suddenly overcame her whilst she looked at Alsiif, then Ryyna in turn.
Murdering your own daughter. That was certainly a thought. Lolth would love it, too.
Neit had intentionally kept her distance from the girl for years, and had only thought about asking the sow for advice at first, but now the certain drowy allure of that particular option was more or less all she could think about. That, and exactly why it made her feel so sick.
Lolth couldn't have given her a more sadistic task if she tried.