A soft sigh escaped Alisa's lips at the girl's words; she disliked keeping others waiting as much as it being done to her. The girl didn't look too upset, but then again Snow wasn't the type to express anger easily, not from what she'd seen thus far.
"Mmm", with an affirmative hum and nod, "Let's hit the road~", the sculptress adjusted her handbag, a sign she was as ready as she'd ever be. She packed relatively light for a woman with such a wide array of wardrobe, but save for a change of clothes she often bought whatever she needed on arrival to the new location, and then sold back all but the favorite pieces she acquired.
Of course, even as they made way, Snow's promise still hung around Alisa's mind. She wouldn't push her about it, at least, not yet. They had a long way to go after all, and she expected their conversation, no matter how sparse, would eventually lead there. Alas, whatever the girl had in mind was heavy enough that she hoped to get out of her chest.
"I'm all ears.", as soft and elegant as ever, the sculptress cocked her head slightly, brushing a lock of raven hair behind her ear. Obviously expecting something serious, Alisa responded in kind, yet no amount of preparation could have steeled her for the bomb Snow dropped. Her widened half at the revelation and half at the fact that she actually went out and said it just like that, "Machia huh? Seems the changes you mentioned yesterday were quite the understatement..."
She'd heard about the race on occasion, but had never met one before, let alone expected to do so in her own guild: They were, after all, quite rare, and quite adept at passing for flesh and blood humans. Yet if Snow looked at Alisa, she'd find nothing but an accepting, welcoming look, treating her no different whether she was made of flesh or metal. If anything, she might spot a bit of envy: True to her vanity, Alisa saw in her guildmate a beauty that would never wither and age; she'd as stunning as she looks now, forever.
Some people - usually lovers - had called her body a work of art in the past. A flattering compliment, but Alisa took it for what it was; a metaphor. For Snowflake, however those words were as literal as they could be: "...But, why go that far...?", she'd inquire, rubbing her chin curiously.
Clearly, they'd have plenty of conversation to share until they reached Marigold...