i don't think there would be flowers for my memorial. ravka sells the bones of their saints as good luck charms. we're all objects to them.
[ morbid, indeed, but she knows that isn't what clara is getting at. alina lapses into thoughtful silence, despite the dread suddenly churning whirlpools in her stomach. ]
honestly? i'm not sure i know how to answer that. beautiful that your memory touched someone enough to live on in someone's heart. tragic that you would have to leave behind the life you wished for, and the people who will mourn you. but i suppose it's hopeful, too. that life can grow from death.
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ravka sells the bones of their saints as good luck charms. we're all objects to them.
[ morbid, indeed, but she knows that isn't what clara is getting at. alina lapses into thoughtful silence, despite the dread suddenly churning whirlpools in her stomach. ]
honestly? i'm not sure i know how to answer that.
beautiful that your memory touched someone enough to live on in someone's heart.
tragic that you would have to leave behind the life you wished for, and the people who will mourn you.
but i suppose it's hopeful, too. that life can grow from death.