in tenebris est veritas.
"The safety of loved ones is a debt that can never be repaid," Chaele agrees, the pained absence of her own debts perhaps apparent in the way her wet hands pause in their diligent work. The last of the harvesting completed, the shaman places her hand on the box that encloses the heart. Protectively, perhaps, as the great scaled beast wriggles hungrily nearer and recoils stubbornly in the next moment. It is worth more to her rituals than anything else in that little collection, and the realization passes through another hesitating beat.
She gestures to the cloak and coins and other belongings. “You should take it. For yourself, or for them. I will burn the body when the weather passes, take the ashes to the Greatwood.”
She gestures to the cloak and coins and other belongings. “You should take it. For yourself, or for them. I will burn the body when the weather passes, take the ashes to the Greatwood.”
