"Sharp as always, Ms Sorrows," Solomon said dryly before he turned. He was just a little apprehensive about doing so, but now he had adjusted to the sudden shift it was impossible to see the ripples in the lifestream around him, emanating from behind. When he had turned and laid eyes on the woman, he wasn't sure why he was surprised.

China Sorrows was a weaving. A spider-web, silken and reaching to all corners of her own domain; intricate, delicate and strong at once. A hole had been ripped out of the centre. The web maintained, intact, through the integrity of its edges, but nevertheless, the centre--where the spider would have sat--was simply gone. Its trailing edges drifted gently in the lifestream.

For a moment he remained silent, head slightly tilted to hear the quiet noise of their surroundings, and regarded her soul. Just like when he'd first gone to her, Solomon thought ruefully. He'd cut to the chase, just as China was, and she'd refused him. Fortunately for her, he wasn't inclined to do the same.

"It's about Bliss," he said directly. "His soul is trapped in the maze of his reflections and we need the person who built the mirrors to begin with to figure out how to rescue him."