Bearclaw Valley Este's been losin' sleep.

The girl dry swallows and looks between the objects, thinking as quickly as she can. Her head hurts, her belly wants to rumble but doesn't have the energy; they keep her alive here in stillrift but she has become lean.
The lady... is pretty, which is true, if a bit simple-minded, and she likes... dead things, and these are dead. The flowers were partially withered when they had been picked, with the dirt beneath them drinking away the rest of their life over time.
The stone is dark on one side, like the man is dark. she motions at the stone which is bisected around the middle by another shade of gray as she's described, but it isn't perfect, there's quartz marbling in one corner.
The gray is like the rabbits he brings me. The corners of Indra's mouth twist in a bashful little smile she cannot help but express. She tries to swallow this down too, hide this, as she looks to the dirt again.