Seaside Moors my boy builds coffins with hammers and nails

skipping rose w permission

eyes narrow on the forsaken question to hang in the air as his head opts to simply shake away whatever may have been about to escape from his tongue. am i what? her lips part somewhat yet words do not surface as caliginous eyes probe gently at the glint of his gaze, seeking what he could possibly wonder about her. curiosity twirls sly fingers throughout the stoic arrangement of her current mindset and it takes an exhausting amount of will power to keep from questioning, 'am i what? what am i?' yet having grown softer over time as the peace of the teekons slowly eroded at the sharp edges stacked up to defend her from hissing monsters of the past, she allows her figure to loosen completely as pearly fangs fumble with her lip. a nod is offered idly at the repetition of their names and even the ghost of a smile flits daintily across ashen features when he permits her to join rusalka. "thank you i-" i what? nostrils flare to catch the true extent of freedom lingering giddily on such hyper breezes, buzzed from whatever energy one would pick up upon rolling with the crashing sea in the distance. a quick swallow as her head nods once more and a quiet murmur simply repeats "yes thank you"

she blinks up to the hulking man once more, silently vowing to seek him out again and discover what truly had wished to dance free from the confines of ivory jaws before turning to cast a coy smile at the marred man by her side. "can't wait to see how long it takes until you're sick of me" she lilts softly, chuckles huffing forth as her weight shifts to shoulder him. bertók is quick to take to the sky with a disdainful caw and she sighs after him, he'd come around.