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Estra leans into Honaire, one thin arm twined around another of silvery green, and her eyes brim with tears.
Slowly, gently, Honaire's body becomes indistinct. It separates into thick strands that wind their way up Estra's torso, joining the rivulets on her face before disappearing into her eyes and ears.
The woman brushes a corner of shawl against her face. "I know, dear. I'm fine. But stay in there a while, if you'd be so kind."
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The Artist Formerly Known As Cudak Tanagak prestidigitates the blood and gore off his legs and out of his dark hair.
He growls: I can't wait to get back into my clean pink suit and dance at the lounge. So tired of these blooddrops that keep falling on my head. He pauses, as if thinking of a new song.