"That could be today, in a few weeks - it could be yesterday and I had no idea." Drawing back, she has a considering expression. "Is it yesterday?"
Perhaps for her mystery offering, it is. She hopes not for herself, she's been trying to keep her house in order so that there is nowhere for the phantom parasite to hide from her. This is the season for caterpillars and buds, not unwelcome gluttons.
There's that spark in her eye of comprehension. That information will be useful later, but doesn't make sense in the current moment.
"...It's spring. Plenty of time to plan to bury all the risen dead before the next Mourner's Night."
She'll keep eyes and ears and nose open. If Father's handing this one over to her, it's a case that needs her touch. Something mortal, not cosmic upheaval.
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Perhaps for her mystery offering, it is. She hopes not for herself, she's been trying to keep her house in order so that there is nowhere for the phantom parasite to hide from her. This is the season for caterpillars and buds, not unwelcome gluttons.
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"...It's spring. Plenty of time to plan to bury all the risen dead before the next Mourner's Night."
She'll keep eyes and ears and nose open. If Father's handing this one over to her, it's a case that needs her touch. Something mortal, not cosmic upheaval.