Gilded Bay echoes

she has more or less remained in govinda's keep, if that is the right word to use. much like before, hamartia finds her days spent solitary, but this does not trouble her, for she has learned to accept quiet and calm. it is not a form of peace. she is not meant for the eyes of others. still, the small gathering lures her from society's edges, even before the strange stench greets her. she spots govinda and two others, unfamiliar, and a magnificent beast stretched out before them, larger than she's ever seen. a whale, she thinks distantly, unsettled by its flattened form on the sands, disrupting the natural order of sea and land.

a sigh, stolen from her, drifts up into the air as she finds a place besides govinda. the boy's question had gone up as she approached, and she adds her own voice to the conversation, melodic tones somber and nearly dulled, "a whale. poor thing." there is little they can do for it, too small to push it back into the water, too weak to kill it quickly and save it the misery of such a slow, tedious death. her thoughts fall into the same line as govinda's, unknowingly; she will stand vigil until it passes. after that they can feast on its rich fat.