Lost Creek Hollow my father took one hundred and thirty-two minutes to die

caiaphas' thoughts were not so separate from kavos': she wondered if she had imagined this familiarity, or if it had been conjured up in a dying feat of desperation - perhaps it was her mind's last feeble attempt to ward off the ever-sinking doom of starvation. perhaps it was some protective measure, some valiant figment derived so that she had some cornerstone of her life to hold onto, to remind her of who she was, before starvation closed around her.

she shifted, uncomfortable visiting such perilous halls of thought. they would lead nowhere good, she knew that well enough.

"well, that's life." she said flippantly, coldly -- deciding then if she was going mad, she should at least do it near her children so they were not left unprotected. she did not hide one last suspicious glance that roved callously and unfumbling over kavos' frame - eyes that seemed to pin him under their hostile will - before she gave him wide birth and made move to leave.