"That something is mine," she hissed back, angry and scared enough that her own voice dropped automatically into its old accent. "Not for others to use. And not for you to dissect and wave around in front of me." Her tin, bronze, and iron were burning high, every sense alert and ready for a fight, despite knowing that he was unlikely to do anything. Or was that instinct wrong, like the one that flinched away from her Almighty, like the one that wanted to trust the rusting Survivor, father to the one who killed gods and ended her entire world, again and again?
"There - there's plenty of Ruin in me. Our Lord is in all of us, including you, Survivor." She was grasping at ash, she knew it and she was still doing it because she was desperate and he just kept going. She gripped the handle of her knife, sweating, and went on, "Even in that imbecile woman of yours, the one who upset the stability of our glorious empire and then killed -" She couldn't keep talking. She hadn't cared about the Final Empire. Hell, they'd stolen her life away.
"Stop talking to me," she said finally, flipping the knife in her hand into a throwing position. She couldn't fight him, but there were other options.