The mothcat's reaction brings a small—very small, barely noticeable—smile to her face, and she turns her hand over and very gently pets the top of the Countess' head, right between her ears. Merrin's gaze stays on the mothcat while she both pets and absorbs this information, her expression thoughtful.

An apocalypse does sound like a bit much. Maybe she's just predisposed because peace, to her, only means silence and emptiness, a space where her sisters once were. But if she could have them back... if she had that kind of peace, the one from before the war came to Dathomir...

"Perhaps you are right," she says finally, tipping her head forward to acknowledge the point. "You are not oblivious to this like so many others. You are fighting against these... unpleasant entities?" she asks, echoing his phrasing somewhat awkwardly, her accent thick.