"Oh, well... you know. I keep them in this little pocket," she indicates a pouch at her waist, or rather at the waist of the armor. It's made of leather and is tucked neatly up under the shield strapped across her back, only just visible under the blue-and-silver heraldry. Tucked in next to it is an odd holster, securing the bottle she'd drunk from, earlier, "They don't mind being all crammed together. Sometimes I trade them to other undead, but I do eat them. To get stronger, you know?"

So obvious, Cal. She eats souls. And now, apparently, laughs about it.

"Well, of course not, silly! You'd have to be well hollowed to give up your souls without a fight. But it's not anything any of them haven't done to me. It's just how life is, you know?"