It's good that you don't feel well
"Cousin, why are you smeared with blood? Is... is that yours?" Marga who was having the creeps by Seraphina's crazy appearance inquired. Slowly traveling her gaze from Seraphina's head up until half of her upper shirt, Marga's brows creased in apprehension.
"Oh? These? It's not mine, you don't have to worry." Seraphina quickly examined her hands that has dried blood of Max then moves to her shirt that was also tainted with a reddish brown hue, as if she experienced an accident or been stabbed.
"not yours..." Marga murmurs as her gut feeling tells her that she shouldn't stay any longer around Seraphina. Alas, when she lifts her gaze again and met hers -- Marga's instinct tells her that it's not a good idea to leave just yet.
"Yup. I had a rough day today as I did a cleansing to the world -- reasons why I was late to this heartwarming family dinner." Seraphina nonchalantly uttered as if she was just stating her job yet, her complex words could be understood in a different way.