[She can tell by the expression in his eyes — or lack thereof — that he also doesn't know what she is, like everyone else she has spoken to, but it is more than a little pleasant to have him accept her at face value.

She affords him the same courtesy he afforded her; not questioning him about his vague answer, despite the fact that she's desperately curious about what on earth he means by that. "More or less?" More or less than what? How can one only more or less be human?

Still, it is an answer she can accept, and her stiff posture of before relaxes somewhat, her spine curving as her shoulders slump slightly.]

I...do not know. The last thing I remember, I had been crossing the Dead Marshes. The next, I woke up in an empty, dark room, and I was here.

What about you?