It’s not dying I’m afraid of
Weaver chuckles, her grin growing into that mischievous look of hers. ”You say I just need to stick around now. Wait till you are sick of me,” she says, giving him a wink. She stands, slinging the now very full pack onto her back. She takes a moment to wipe the blood and grime from her scythe in the grass, and hooks it onto her back as well. ”I am vastly hard to get rid of. Like a parasite.” Yes, she can absolutely make fun of herself.
She just shrugs slightly, finding that people were always overly offended by something or another. ”People do enjoy having things to be righteous about though. You are doing them a terrible disservice by not giving them a reason to complain.” Her tone is clearly joking, though there’s something a bit rueful in there as well. It’s not like she’s not used to courting lectures from others, though not for careless treatment of fake animals. After all, she had no such skill.
She just shrugs slightly, finding that people were always overly offended by something or another. ”People do enjoy having things to be righteous about though. You are doing them a terrible disservice by not giving them a reason to complain.” Her tone is clearly joking, though there’s something a bit rueful in there as well. It’s not like she’s not used to courting lectures from others, though not for careless treatment of fake animals. After all, she had no such skill.
weaver
it’s dying without ever having lived
