[Maple Cabin]

Investigating the bloody stains would unveil little about their purpose. Scarce are markings that aren't of Valaira's own design. And these lines and curves react to being watched. The angles are not fixed. The squiggly lines writhe. The arrows jut out of the image like walls of spears waiting to impale passers-by. The channeling foci constantly warp into altogether dissimilar stains without rhyme or reason. And they're more complex than the most advanced circuity in most of the Nexus.

The raw power of any magic cast while in this room should triple or quadruple with these marks in place. Worst of all, the blood was collected from sapient beings.

Whatever Valaira's been up to recently hasn't been pacifistic.

"Do you want to talk about it? Talking might make you feel better?"

Valaira offers, attempting to drown herself in Zero's scent. By the looks of the room and her, it'd stand to reason that she's lost all of her clothing. Every single scrap of it.

"And if talking doesn't do the trick, I've an ace up my sleeve that I've been saving for a rainy day! Wanna see it?"