The thin strands of optimism remaining for the worn-out woman are tightened; tugged on each end in opposing directions more strongly with each portion of answer he gave: a far away land of foreign names that humans have never treaded in a far away place. Magnixx is either literally from Heaven or some place worlds or dimensions apart. It means to return there is in the very least a burdonsome task and at most an eater of months or years.

The final, snapping pull comes as she listens and gazes emptily at their reflection in the nearby mirror. The image of two lovers is innocent and harmless amid the first blinks of her eyes but then a horror: a separate image of herself at the bedside, dressed and staring at them with black holes and a crazed, twisted grin.

Where others may be startled the only feeling it arouses is sinking dread and realization. What happened before was not in vision; she'd miscalculated the exact distance of influence her cursed compeer possesses and allowed herself to become a toy for however much time she'd lost. So the sword is now somewhere in the house and that meant their dance would soon take a terrifying turn. For now the night has fallen and the hunger must be sated.

Unfortunately Hisame is the only one who can see the apparition as its arm lifts the katana overhead. Its length glitters with rusty gold before it's  brought down like a guillotine into both their midsections with a wet slicing but all she can do is twitch and blink back into reality. She gazes into the newly normal reflection of the mirror and cuts the silence with the answer to his question. "This world is called Earth and the country is America. A world of industry, machines and incompetence."

She looks back at him listlessly. "Unfortunately it is a world where you are the only of your kind and many, if not all in it will greet you with fear and hatred." The smile feels feigned. "Except for me, that is; I am also... [i]different[/i]."

Silence is allowed to fill the seconds but not for long. Soon only her ears hear the whispers from the unlit hallway; the scratching upon the ajar door frame; the beckoning of her blade for an altogether dissimilar feast of flesh.