She is still feeling slightly spiteful of the whole ordeal. Not that the WHOLE rat team deserves this, but who is she to pick and choose who gets crickets and who doesn't? So, in the dead of night, Anselma has left a lovely gift—a box of crickets. Enjoy the song of their people! Watch as they hop around you! Fear them!
“…Hm.” What an odd box. She had nearly kicked it on her way back to ‘her’ room, the box only saved by the chirping emanating from it moments before. Now, she instead crouches in front of the box, peering into it, watching the small creatures hop about and chirp.
Those are crickets. Those are definitely crickets. But why are there crickets? Who just leaves a box of crickets? What’s the point in that? Is it like leaving a baby? Is she expected to take care of this now???
Slowly, Embla finds herself rising to her feet, the box of crickets now rising with her as she carries it surprisingly gently, rather than leaving it on the floor. She… supposes, she can keep them?? Less revolting than a mortal child would have been, certainly. Crickets are delightful. She has no idea who would abandon such a thing.
“…Your name shall be Elm 2.” She mutters quietly to no cricket in particular, approaching the door properly now, crickets in tow. No point to giving them separate names, anyway. No one can tell them apart. They probably can’t even tell themselves apart.
Shifting the weight of the box to one arm, she reaches out to open the door…
Then closes it, once she sees the boy down on all fours and… eating, or at the very least hunting the insects as if he’s some sort of cat. Because that is sane and normal behavior, of course. She is the weird one in this room. Truly, what is wrong with the mortals? Askr threw his life away for this???
…Perhaps she should remain outside for the night.
