"Nothing that cannot be explained away by superior senses and a purging of food that smelled foul to begin with," Elizaveta remarked lightly. Lord knew how many times she had taken it upon herself to remove offending items from the storage areas of her homes during her life within the Cyri. True, on many of those occasions the food had actually begun to rot and she had simply caught the scent first, but that was hardly the point. Vampires had a far better sense of smell than the creatures they had started out as and she did not see why they should have to suffer the lingering odours the food of their blood dolls could leave behind. "In any case, he ought to be grateful with what he is given." Yes, it was quite clear that Elizaveta placed her blood dolls on pedestals, but it was equally clear that she did no such thing for those that belonged to other vampires. In those cases, she remained polite and adopted what she knew of the other vampire's attitude. And, well - this was Liliya. Besides, Emilie and Galileo were grateful for what they were given.
There was something about a combination of fire elemental and water elemental that the Russian truly adored. Blood effects aside, it fascinated her how the living elementals could repel each other on such a base level and yet once spilt, their blood mixed together so wonderfully. But then she supposed blood was blood, and once it left the body the type meant something only to vampires, blood witches and hunters. Taking a slow sip, she listened to Liliya's answer, mostly pleased to hear that nothing of interest had happened. It meant that nothing had gone catastrophically wrong. Though she could see how that would be boring - especially when surrounded by what sounded like a hoard of idiots. "I confess myself uncomfortable with creatures that stand for moral polar opposites involving themselves in politics." She could not help it, but Elizaveta's thoughts flashed to Eric. The Cyri os si Vyri sought control, not enlightenment. She was a religious woman herself, but not even she put God before her house. Hopefully neither had he. Ah - she had not quite been expecting that next part. Pulling the glass away from her face, she cleared her throat through a laugh, finger dabbing at the corner of her mouth. "Niet--" Her composure returned almost immediately, though her smile remained rather more amused than usual. "--I believe they have both gone back to work. There is truly no rest for the wicked." Chin resting on the back of her fingers, an eyebrow arched slightly. "The wedding was... smaller than I expected. And on the same day as the Hartley funeral." Her tone was again perfectly balanced; to listen to her it would have been impossible to tell that she found both statements deeply entertaining. Both the Calverts and the Blakes could afford a far bigger, and the funeral... Well, it was unfortunate, but nevertheless. She was no longer of an age to find human mortality a huge concern.