Morgan nodded thoughtfully at Deimos' comment, having thought much the same herself; they could really use the space for all sorts of different things. As they approached the village she reached out to touch the edge of a wall, the crumbling ice and dirt over the bricks falling underneath her fingers as Neron suggested they ask a God to 'cleanse' the buildings. An almost mischievous smile came over Morgan's face as she turned to ask:
"Cleanse the area? Are you scared of ghosts, Neron?" She believed in spirits herself, but more of the 'inherent in nature' kind, not the souls of the dead lingering behind. Even if ghosts did exist, Morgan didn't think they'd be too much scarier than the average person. Turning her gaze to Deimos, she said with just a touch of humour in her voice: "We should go around the village first and make sure there isn't anything in need of 'cleansing', right General?"
With that said, she went around the corner of the building and to the door, which swung open easily, rotted wood on too-loose hinges creaking as it did. It was dark, but the light from outside illuminated enough for one to see a surprisingly neat, laid out kitchen of sorts; however, a pungent and immediately sobering smell of blood wafted out from the shadows.
"Cleanse the area? Are you scared of ghosts, Neron?" She believed in spirits herself, but more of the 'inherent in nature' kind, not the souls of the dead lingering behind. Even if ghosts did exist, Morgan didn't think they'd be too much scarier than the average person. Turning her gaze to Deimos, she said with just a touch of humour in her voice: "We should go around the village first and make sure there isn't anything in need of 'cleansing', right General?"
With that said, she went around the corner of the building and to the door, which swung open easily, rotted wood on too-loose hinges creaking as it did. It was dark, but the light from outside illuminated enough for one to see a surprisingly neat, laid out kitchen of sorts; however, a pungent and immediately sobering smell of blood wafted out from the shadows.
MORGAN
Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go
The worries that refuse to let us go
