The Blacksmith catches the bag by reflex, staring at them with the dark, hunted eyes of a prey animal. "We?" she says. "No. You have to go."
Waverly half-turns, sliding a glance askance at the skull. "Who's coming? Am I in danger?"
The Blacksmith turns toward her, coming closer. "Of course you are!" she says, half sharp, half reverent. "This is what it means to be blessed."
She reaches for, but doesn't touch the skull, pulling her hands away at the last moment as distress crawls across her face. "You poor sweet girl. What was Curtis thinking?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2023-02-02 11:55 pm (UTC)Waverly half-turns, sliding a glance askance at the skull. "Who's coming? Am I in danger?"
The Blacksmith turns toward her, coming closer. "Of course you are!" she says, half sharp, half reverent. "This is what it means to be blessed."
She reaches for, but doesn't touch the skull, pulling her hands away at the last moment as distress crawls across her face. "You poor sweet girl. What was Curtis thinking?"