seaboard: (cursed by your dust filled hymn)
𝕘𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕒 𝕤𝕥. 𝕝𝕠𝕖 | ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ-ꜱᴇᴀ ([personal profile] seaboard) wrote in [community profile] allthisshitisweird 2019-01-25 03:14 am (UTC)

It's a smile returned, lightly, but brightly, crinkling around the corner of her eyes. "We had best keep them happy. I can take care of the bones, for the moment."

If that should bother her - it clearly doesn't. It was not the first time, not the last. These were not her burial rights. But there is a familiarity there. Gathering bones from the rock pools. It takes her up a moment, stepping closer - because the problem is not the bones, it's the little many-legged pests. So she takes up a stick, near at hand, and gently begins poking and overturning the bones from the old material.

When he speaks, she looks over her shoulder - nervous a moment until she realises what he's asking a moment. "I believe so. But only when we're not looking."

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