Lamia's eyes softened behind her mask, even as the rational side of her brain writhed at the thought of a demon looking for "a purpose." This dilemma was intimately familiar to her, and she could sympathize with the man.
"It has been my experience," she delicately stroked the edge of the mask in her arms through the scarf, "that fate can be
unnecessarily cruel sometimes in the path that it lays, but it is the privilege of the living to reshape it when...we are able to muster the force necessary to tear up the bricks and lay them again," she advised, glancing around slightly nervous in spite of herself, not expecting to catch sight of the one winged man that happened to be walking by. Her jaw dropped and eyes grew wide in horror. Taking a step back, she cast down her eyes and quickly whispered, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, who am I to judge your will?"