No threats? No promises of violence? She'd expected something, and it was clear now his anger wasn't directed at her but something else. She'd think it a trick, but that would mean the confusion and anger he was displaying was a very impressive display of mimicry, which she would give him had he been calmer. She kept one hand on her sword as she turned to see what, exactly he was looking at behind her. What she saw even took her back.
Abraham had always been a figure of pictures. There was a hall in the mansion of paintings of her ancestors, and the man that strode calmly along her house was the very resemblance of that painting. The hound at his side was both familiar and not. She knew without asking though. Still the very image and it's oddness had her step aside and away from it. "What," she asked with just a hint of confusion in her voice, "is this?" Abraham neither noticed her nor cared about her. It was as if he did not see her, nor noticed his suddenly different environment. Whatever it was, it wasn't real.