"You are dangerous?" She cocks her shell's head sharply. The notion is almost absurd, except that Illyria herself does not appear so outwardly threatening in this shape, all of her self and her being packed into this tiny, fragile little container. "Are you not the dominant entity in your shell?"

It is how Illyria is. There are - remnants, scattered, of Winifred Burkle, but all of them are swallowed out by the far superior presence of the God-King within. But this symbiote-child's hunger is made of so many small things, and the child itself is without question the one who speaks and decides.