"put me in the coffin with both middle fingers up." from ellie.
text posts. accepting! / @beforewecrash.
dina’s nose wrinkles, loosing a quiet huff of laughter, but she doesn’t look up from the small fire set up in front of them. ‘ you’re not dying. ’ she reminds her. it is cold, though, enough to chill their noses, their ears, the scant bits of skin left bared to the winter air. it’s damp, too, and a good portion of their discomfort can be attributed to the on-and-off drizzle that’s been following them for more than a quarter of the day.within moments of her reply, ellie sneezes soundly, as if arguing her point further. the look she levels her– as if saying see? what did i tell you?– prompts a small, lopsided smile when dina glances upward to catch it. yeah, winter isn’t over yet, but, ‘ at least it isn’t spring. ’ and, at that: at least they’re on the last leg of their patrol, mere moments away from a hot, crispy meal. ( two squirrels, which isn’t a lot – but it’s fresh. ) they’re both impatient to dig in.
ellie swipes her nose with the back of her hand, sniffing mildly. ( dina knows she doesn’t like the winter. something about the snow, the way she eyes deer tracks in the forest — ellie hasn’t told, and dina hasn’t asked, but she does notice. so, she fills the spaces in between. she talks enough for both of them. ) dina knocks her boot against that of her companion’s, nodding at the pack to their right side.
‘ grab a plate, whiner. ’
