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"If he finds solace in it, let him. Church is for those who need it, for people who can put their faith in something unseen and unheard and possibly unhelpful but they know it's there anyway." Algie chuckled, "Like an extended warranty. You may never ever call it in but once you buy it you're not so concerned about breaking things."

If she knew what an extended warranty was.

"We're fighting an invisible enemy, we've seen the signs but haven't seen it. Why shouldn't there be God too?" Was he defending going to church? Possibly, but only for the sake of debate. It was one as old as time.

Somehow another sugared dragonfly had found it's way into his hands. he wasn't eating it, and much like Mare had already snapped off a wing.

"I don't know enough about you or.. what you are." He knew the fetches would replace them, knew at some point he'd be taking his place back, but the creatures at the ball had been venemous and fought hard to to remain who they were. Mare wasn't under the same illusions.

Alg did give her a small smile and wink though, "Maybe you'll make it in, should I ever be allowed to write again." There was a small, sick revelation that some doppelganger of his own was possibly messing with his writing, tinkering with his books, some shadow-faced version of himself laughing maniacally over a keyboard.

His expression had fallen and he snapped another wing off without a thought, "And when I'm done here, wicked taskmistress, I'll give you a whole set of my books..."

"People find ways to punish or judge themselves, when others won't," Be it through religion or otherwise. He was guilty of it, he did it now to himself in this place. There was always some level of guilt for something, some part of the brain that told you what you did or thought or said was wrong.

Alg realized the dragonfly in his hands had been dismantled, not only had the wings been snapped off, but he broken it's body into sections, clipped the head off last, and when he looked down began to idly arrange them on the table top in some disjointed form of it's old, full self.

"If I pass my trial.." Alg mused, but I'm glad you have confidence. The nature of the trial had not been told to him, just that it would come. He actually preferred not knowing when as he was sure he'd dread it and overthink it. "I find less and less about my life to be quaint as time goes on."

With the dragonfly arranged like Frankenstein's monster on the table, he plucked up a wing and ate it, letting the sugar dissolve on his tongue. His thumb idly rubbed over his wedding ring and he glanced down at his knuckles, pink with healed scrapes and wounds. Was he ready for a trial? Would he pass? Had he gotten strong at all? His body still ached after workouts though he'd adapted. Would it be a failing for Mare if he failed as well?

"So you chose this?"

Sixteen was young, very young, though perhaps when she did this it was a different time, when sixteen was a woman's age. With her fixation on courtship and marriage, it wouldn't surprise him.

"As long as you fought.." He mused. Because that was what had been drilled into him here, to fight. It would now be a balancing act for him, the physical instinct to defend himself warring with his own urges to not act - to think. But had she been the fighter or the monster, even then?

Once the deed was done... did it matter anymore?

The shattered confection was swept into his work worn hands and put on the tray as Alg rose from his chair. To be late would not be a good thing.

He offered Mare his arm.