It is strange having another fae in her home; for the years she's lived here, flying below the radar as long as possible, she's never invited one of her kind to her home. Then again, most of her kind that she kept company with were loyal to her aunt and would happily turn her in for a cut of good fortune. She must admit that it is nice being able to share something with another fairy, even if it is only to lure him to his own doom.

She should feel more guilty about this, but that selfish, cold heart of hers can't quite comprehend remorse.

When she undresses in front of him, Blaise does not consider the fact that he might be uncomfortable. It is not a normal concern for her, having been raised from birth in the Unseelie court of the fae where nudity is as common an occurrence as breathing. She can remember even as a teen spending hours swimming in the Winter lake with Prince Vaughan, their bare skin kissed with the ice cold water, shimmering like diamonds in the pale sun cast over them.

It is funny to think that the same prince that had flirted with her, had tugged her feet beneath the water might be one to drag her back to Fairy to face trial before the Court.

She doesn't dwell any longer on this, instead turning her attention back to Asher has he holds the knife, his eyes locked on her knees as if he's afraid or embarrassed to look anywhere else. Her lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Thank you," she breathes as he promises to be quick before sliding to the floor, kneeling before her to more closely examine the mess she'd made of her leg. Despite the damage, it was still worth it to have him here, so close to being hers that she can feel a rush of excitement sparking in her chest, flooding her veins with fire.

For a moment, she allows herself to revel in the fact that she might have a fools chance of actually thwarting her dear aunt.

His voice pulls her from those thoughts, the description of his curse a brief one, but to the point. She makes to respond, thinking to question him further about his affliction, to ask so many questions about what it must be like to rebel against one's own morals (not that she has any of her own) and about how he feels. Surely something like that must do lasting damage, being forced to do something you despise on such a regular basis.

She wants to ask him so much more, but then the pain comes.

Her jaw snaps shut with a clatter of teeth, her lips drawn back in a snarling hiss of air as the edge of the knife cuts into the already raw flesh. True to his word, he makes quick work of things, plucking the tiny rocks from where they'd become embedded in flesh, cutting again, then more extraction. Blood trickles down the side of her knee and she grits her jaw tighter, her teeth grinding. Her breath hisses rapidly through her nose, her eyes fluttering shut against the searing pain as if she could shut it out entirely.

When he speaks again, she latches on to the sound of his voice, using it to anchor her.

"She seems a pleasant sort," she manages, the words tinged with amusement despite the pain. It isn't so bad now, the spot numbing from the shock of being poked at. "I bet she's a hoot at parties."

Years of training and fighting are the only reason she is able to joke now, a skill she'd utilized before when an arrow had speared itself through her abdomen. She's still got the scar from that one, a pale slant just below her ribcage.

They are silent for the rest of the procedure, her eyes closing again as she presses her back firmly into the couch, her left hand gripping the cushion until her knuckles whiten. When he finishes, she breathes a heavy sigh, her eyelids fluttering open, her green eyes glazed. "Well. That was just lovely," she says, flashing him a smile now that the torture is done with. She sits up straighter, pulling her legs back to herself and dabbing her knees with a wad of cotton she'd pulled from the first aid kit. Her eyes meet his and she softens, momentarily lost in the sea of blue.

"How long have you been cursed, Archer," she questions, a frown creasing her features. How long have you been desperate to end it, she means, gauging the possibilities of how she might use this knowledge for herself.