What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
She really couldn’t have planned that throw better if she tried. Honestly, she’d just been hoping to hit the counter near him, though maybe she didn’t throw with quite that intent. ”Worth it,” she sing-songs, hoping he can read lips. If not, he can certainly read the look of pure amusement on her face. If he wasn’t going to cause trouble anymore, she’d just have to do it for the both of them.
Weaver ducks her head back into the room, returning to the messy and tedious work of removing flesh from skin. She’d need to get the fur off next. Korbin steps inside, and she pulls another knife out from her waist and hands it over to him, not forcing, but figuring he’d rather keep his hands busy. It was a big hide and could use two people working on it.
There also happens to be paper and pencil beside her, as if maybe she’d had it there all along, waiting to catch her brother. She picks it up, not particularly concerned with the pieces of flesh left from her hands. Love you, little brother, she scribbles, turning the paper his way before settling back into working on the leather.
Weaver ducks her head back into the room, returning to the messy and tedious work of removing flesh from skin. She’d need to get the fur off next. Korbin steps inside, and she pulls another knife out from her waist and hands it over to him, not forcing, but figuring he’d rather keep his hands busy. It was a big hide and could use two people working on it.
There also happens to be paper and pencil beside her, as if maybe she’d had it there all along, waiting to catch her brother. She picks it up, not particularly concerned with the pieces of flesh left from her hands. Love you, little brother, she scribbles, turning the paper his way before settling back into working on the leather.
Weaver
