[Spooky stories might work better on someone who hadn't lived among walking skeletons and revenant ghosts and horrible old nuns about one step away from being walking skeletons themselves her whole life, so instead she only nods. It's not - as far as she can see - an entirely unreasonable suggestion. Though whether they want the patronage of whatever would accept offerings from a creepy alter like this is anyone's guess. Gideon's guess would be probably fucking not, but hey, any port in a storm.]

Yeah, pretty crucial. It's the centre of the whole fucking Ninth House cult. I pray the tomb is shut forever, I pray the rock is never rolled away...

[She intones this last part in a deep, sepulchral drone, just like one of the rancid old Sisters, or Harrowhark herself. She had never prayed along with them, not back then, and it both irritates her yet leaves her feeling strangely homesick to know she's got the whole horrible dirge engraved in her mind. She sprinkles the hand-bones onto the alter as she says it, like they're enacting some kind of heretical ritual. Which she supposes they kind of are.]

There's a frozen dead girl in there who's supposedly the one thing capable of destroying God, but fuck knows if that's really true. The killing God bit, I mean. the frigid bimbo I heard about from a trusted source.

[She stands backs, hands on her hips, staring intently at the alter. It doesn't appear to be impressed with their meagre offering.]

Maybe chuck a few of yours on.

[She says, without any real expectation.]