Dragoncrest Cliffs gade zetwal yo

Sobeille took her uncle's name, and Maleah thought that perhaps one day the little girl would take pride in it. Even if it were for no reason other than the twinkle of Mireille's eyes when she spoke of him; the fondness, the affection.
You still can, and some found solace within that, some did not; but Maleah offers it anyway with a grasp of a slender paw to Mireille's own, if she were to accept it. you can talk to them. Somewhere, I think they're listening. Souls, and stuff, our consciousness; it doesn't just disappear, even if our bodies do.
And there were the bodies, too, to visit; what remained of physical forms, encapsulated in dirt or charred to ash, whatever one wished to do with them. But to some, they were just that — just bodies, skeletons, rotten down to the same core that belonged to everyone else. They were not loved ones anymore.
Maleah herself had grown cynical — she would not suggest it.
Rain continues to spatter the soil around them, an oilslick dew that drenches the two bodies. Maleah tips her muzzle upward and the spikes of pine release a droplet that runs between her eyes. Do you believe in a god, Mireille?