"That's the necromancer's job. Find a matching hand. Though," and thoughtfully, Doki sucks her teeth, making a show of considering this new possibility. "I could be mismatched."
She licks the back of her hand, clearing off a little smear of stew left behind by his spoon. It's good, for food on the road. Then again, stew is hard to get wrong. Her hand feels peculiarly stiff. She can't make a fist properly without it twinging a little, where the edge of the shard stands stiff against her flesh. Making a fist: such a thing to have taken for granted all this time.
Eventually, she'll get used to it, learn to compensate for it. Or lose it. The last is the most preferable. And the stupidest to trust in. Who's to say there will be any getting it out of her hand?
But that's the thing that Doki doesn't want to confront. The inevitable can't be inevitable. Not really. Not yet. Someday she'll need to face it, maybe. Pretend a little longer that quick wits and cleverness and their brand of business will get her out of this. There has never been a thing Doki couldn't get out of. There has never been a think that Aleksei couldn't get out of. Indomitable, that's them, forever and always.
"I've never liked Kirkwall," she announces, as she picks up her spoon again. "We've been there, haven't we? I remember it smells of garbage and fish. Smells worse than you, and that's saying something. What business have you heard about?"
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She licks the back of her hand, clearing off a little smear of stew left behind by his spoon. It's good, for food on the road. Then again, stew is hard to get wrong. Her hand feels peculiarly stiff. She can't make a fist properly without it twinging a little, where the edge of the shard stands stiff against her flesh. Making a fist: such a thing to have taken for granted all this time.
Eventually, she'll get used to it, learn to compensate for it. Or lose it. The last is the most preferable. And the stupidest to trust in. Who's to say there will be any getting it out of her hand?
But that's the thing that Doki doesn't want to confront. The inevitable can't be inevitable. Not really. Not yet. Someday she'll need to face it, maybe. Pretend a little longer that quick wits and cleverness and their brand of business will get her out of this. There has never been a thing Doki couldn't get out of. There has never been a think that Aleksei couldn't get out of. Indomitable, that's them, forever and always.
"I've never liked Kirkwall," she announces, as she picks up her spoon again. "We've been there, haven't we? I remember it smells of garbage and fish. Smells worse than you, and that's saying something. What business have you heard about?"