lay your whisper on my pillow

these violent delights have violent ends

Don't you oh Delah, me. You of all souls shouldn't lament death. The war chief chided, softly amused despite the sternness of her gaze. Accepting the outstretched fingers, still finding her presence in the spirit-world strange, she shook her head. Not a single one, no. You know me better than that, young Seer.

Watching as Remi returned her with her body, the guardian snarled silently at him.

I suppose you couldn't just...let me linger for a week so that I might haunt some of the more mischievous fae?