It isn't information Woe can see a use for. It also isn't information that seems to make her very happy, although that's no deviation from the established pattern. She tugs her cloak even tighter around herself, like an overpinched dumpling, matching the crimped seam of her mouth.

"So you don't know. Of course not." She closes her eyes and draws a sharp breath in through her nose, tipping her head back. "Bleck."

She says it with minimal, snipped inflection, as if that's an unremarkable thing to say.

"It's not to be helped. You're not to blame. Lay practitioners - always a few, however you try to educate, and not a soul did for you, did they?"