His blade is drawn, transforming into its sword-form, before she gets past the second word, although Thace falls into a defensive position rather than offensive. He's too tired to be sure of winning a fight against an unknown opponent to attack first. That, and she may not be an enemy, as much as all of his instincts scream that almost everyone is.
He doesn't put the blade away when he registers what the figure is saying, but he does lower it a little as he looks up at her. The cloak reminds him a bit too much of the druids for him to be comfortable, but he won't show fear or more discomfort than he already has.
"I was curious about the juxtaposition between an archaic balance scale and a blade."
"They are my symbols," she says. "The swift sword, to enforce justice. The scales, to ensure fairness. I am Justice, who by our reckoning is the eleventh Arcana. I have taken on the personal name of Astræa, which you may use if you so choose. Welcome, Thace, to my conversation space."
There is a pause, then, "I did not intend my greeting to rhyme."
"They are fitting symbols then. But why is justice recruiting a Galra?"
Thace wouldn't call the Galra Empire just even by the most lax definition. Instead of order and stability, the empire brought only conquest and oppression. That is why the Blade of Marmora fight, but when outnumbered and sorely outgunned, one can't always hold to ideals to win. The things he's sometimes had to do to keep his cover weigh on his conscience.
He's not going to point that out, aside from the question though. Reminding a bieng that claims to be justice of his less than honorable and just actions is probably tantamount to suicide.
"Are you not seeking to rectify the wrongs of the Galra?" she asks him. "True, you have a gift for calculation and logic, which also fall under my auspices."
"No," she says. "That was chance. But we have become attuned to unmarked Travelers coming back into ambit and so when your dungeon was recognized, I was given a chance to claim you."
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He doesn't put the blade away when he registers what the figure is saying, but he does lower it a little as he looks up at her. The cloak reminds him a bit too much of the druids for him to be comfortable, but he won't show fear or more discomfort than he already has.
"I was curious about the juxtaposition between an archaic balance scale and a blade."
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There is a pause, then, "I did not intend my greeting to rhyme."
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Thace wouldn't call the Galra Empire just even by the most lax definition. Instead of order and stability, the empire brought only conquest and oppression. That is why the Blade of Marmora fight, but when outnumbered and sorely outgunned, one can't always hold to ideals to win. The things he's sometimes had to do to keep his cover weigh on his conscience.
He's not going to point that out, aside from the question though. Reminding a bieng that claims to be justice of his less than honorable and just actions is probably tantamount to suicide.
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He still thinks it's not a great fit, but he knows that arguing is pointless at this point. He has other questions anyway.
"Were you the reason others finally found my dungeon then?"
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