pray for me if you still believe

there was little chance that nya could find anything that could be used as medical supplies for sawbone in the shambles but she had to try, maybe she could excuse what little she still had for them or try to help those who were looking sick as much as she could outside what little sawbone provided. as she walked around, her heart broke at the sight of people on the streets, she stopped by a few trying to make sure they were physically okay before moving on.

to her surprise she saw cela, still by her stall. "cela." she greeted, walking towards her. nya always found her trinkets to be the most beautiful she has ever seen and even bought some from time to time, mostly for her home. "any trinkets that will bring our luck around?" she asked gently, giving cela a smile despite their hardship.

A familiar, friendly voice spoke out and a small rare smile graced her face as she found Nya's gentle eyes, "haven't you heard, they all do," it was a soft taunt that no one else would understand but her. If there was anyone on this godforsaken island that Cela could call a friend, she could be the closest one.

"You've been pushing yourself, haven't you?" Not an accusation, but a small bit of concern for the healer found itself at the edges of her mind, "it's only going to get worse..." a warning, she hoped her friend would heed.

Lebas was not new to hunger. But it had been an all together different thing when he’d been a boy. Now his toned muscles and his work demanded more sustenance. Sweaty and lightheaded after hammering away at the forge, he sat in front of Brimstone, a cup of water at his lips that he was sipping slowly. 

He looked up when someone neared the building, his muscles tensing. “If you need anything new? We’re low on supplies, mostly doing repairs right now.”

The impending doom had turned everyone suspicious and she needed her dagger to be perfect, just in case. "My dagger is dull and broken," she pulled the blade out of her satchel, showing it to him, "I was hoping I could trade you for something we all need right now." Celandine had stockpiled food, just in case of a crisis.

He had a face she recognized, only now with more creases etched along the bone. Did he recognize her in the same way? No, perhaps not.

"I come here to remember," She paused. "No, commune with them," the gallows were a haunted site, one that only held despair and sorrow, yet she had felt home as she stood beside the bodies of those who had been taken too early from this earthly plane. It didn't matter: they would continue to stalk the land of the living unable to move on. Did she have a hand in any of their deaths?

Bags of trinkets underneath her arm as she stepped forward, muddied boots tapping against the weathered stone, "you barter with them as you're on their ledger," she muttered. "The dead have no use for coats, they only deal in grief and guilt, Homer" his name slipped off her tongue like poison.