#barrowbound001.

she's crying over a dead deer, its head arched back, legs tangled, when nól finds her. though alice doesn't know her name yet, nor can even really tell what she is through the tears and the wash of grief, or shame, or whatever it is.

alice has always gone to be alone when she cries. she curls in on herself, being witnessed—arms around her knees. head down, wiping her eyes on her forearm. when she lifts her face again, it's no clearer, but she's obviously trying to pull herself together.