He nodded, looking through a few. "Yup. I'm sure there are more interesting things, if you want to look around."
She nodded slowly, slipping her cloak off her shoulders and stretching her wings before taking flight to get to the higher shelves.
She nodded slowly, her gaze set on a large tomb on the top shelf. It was dusty, ridiculously so, and Eden coughed as she pulled in off the shelf, setting it down.
They were entries of events, written in familiar writing. One such image had a picture of three figures. They were all sitting in chairs, and two of them had their faces exposed, both of them elves. There were cuts all over them.. The male had blonde, almost white hair and his eyes were closed, bruised and puffy. The female was sobbing, her brown hair wild and unkempt. The final figure appeared smaller, more childlike, and he had a black bag over his head.
Joseph finally got one of them to crack today, it read. Once we started on the boy, it all came flooding out. She - his mother - doesn’t want him to see the corpse. It’s an interesting psychological compulsion; they’re both going to die in here, and yet she worries about maintaining as much innocence as he can.
The father finally died today. Joseph wanted to keep him going for a little while longer, but I think the cut over his sternum was the final toll. The mother seemed relieved, in a strange way. Now she seems determined to help the child. She isn’t responding to any of the stimuli.
