[open] she sells sea shells

Their awkward putting continues through the flinch, Osozo far too focused on the tears, the pain on Ariallas face to be able to piece together what the motion meant. After a moment of the woman pulling herself together (Osozo might be trying but they know a doomed venture when they see it) she responds, and they do their best to seem focused on every word. ”Nothing is a terrible way to think about it.” Osozo says, their voice softer, a static buzz. ”You May have to do the work again, but this world is a blank canvas to make your mark upon.” It was a great attempt at being grand, dramatic, but the tone in their hair had faded to a dim mockery of its once garish brightness, betraying how much they were shaken by her emotions. osozo Electrifying mine chambers wholly scorching out thine sovereignty