She takes a moment's consideration, not of his answer but of the genesis before the first asking. She doesn't consider the impetus harmless; for whatever reason, it starts, but the subject is. Harmless. People are whispering in groups, some staying and some fleeing as quietly but politely away as they can.

"To the first, I think that depends on how much of her was still in there." Enough to scream and rant, but obviously taken hard to task in ways far beyond the physical before being brought here.

"As to that—" Sabine swept a glance toward the bones left for children to fingerpaint in blood, a statement they surely didn't understand the full consequences of at all, that shifted only to look upward at the end. A sharp triteness twisted her tone. "—it was a pretty piece of pageantry that at least one person present approved of."

She's seen worse and knows far more beyond that raised bar. But as much could be said of the daughter raised at the rift's edge, just as engaged as her parents in ensuring it stayed closed. That the god on the opposite side of it didn't break in, torturing not one being but every living creature on the planet, leaving them thralls to unimaginable, inescapable pain, never to die only to stay in that state throughout the rest of his eternity.