Miria sighed in clear disappointment. The jinni's answers were cryptic, and parts of them didn't make much sense, but it seemed that he was about as sure as to what was happening as she was. Either that or he was lying. Either way, this creature was far more complicated than she gave him credit for, and unraveling this strange mystery of his presence in her dreams would be more difficult than she imagined. Nothing about this jinni--Curdle, as he called himself--had been easy from the moment she had met him, which forced her not to trust him. What sort of scheme was she falling into? What kind of magic did she find herself snared in? Had she been made a fool by a jinni yet again?

The subtleties of Curdle's shifting surroundings intrigued her, however, and she suspected that Curdle had just as much power to alter details of this dream as she did, as though they were sharing the same dream. The sudden sword at Curdle's hip made her think that he was once a warrior, someone that took comfort in the persuasion of a biting blade. That did not make her less wary of him.

"Pleased to meet you, Curdle," Miria stated stiffly, no welcoming warmth in her tone. She was guarded, cautious, not sure what to make of this stranger, needing to know more about him before she revealed more about herself than she already had. "My name is Miria." Her gaze flickered pointedly to the sword. "Why were you given the name Curdle?" She did not ask for his real name. Frankly, she didn't see how knowing it would make much of a difference, her concern resting in knowing enough about this person to get him out of her dreams. "And how long have you been working for...this Firra Gerun? I am assuming you were her bodyguard."