[ Her arms uncross, and recross; she can feel the pressure of his grip on the bead as though it were the bare skin of her right arm he was grasping, fingertips against the burn of her mark. It doesn't hurt at all; it's warm, and it's a little strange. She hopes he doesn't notice. ]

Mmm. [ Affirmative. ] From the god I told you about before. It manifests through my birthmark. It's not meant to protect just me, really, but... you can't do much good from the grave, you know?