[At some point, Shell began clinging to Childe's arm. And as they drew closer, that grip grew stronger. His expression will be hard to see in the dark, but with the way his eyes reflect what little light there is, it's clear they're wild open, staring out into the horizon from over Childe's shoulder.]
There's... more than one? Th-They're all...
[He doubles over suddenly, one hand moving to his mouth as a wave of nausea washes over him, while the other grips Childe's shirt to avoid falling off. But while Childe won't be able to see why... he'll be able to smell it.]
[From just across the buoy, drawn in by a noticeably very cold ocean breeze, comes the distinct scent of rotting flesh. The scent and the cold wind that carries it seemingly only exist this close to the line.]
[Regardless, it's clear that whoever was out there won't be coming back.]
cw: death, gore
There's... more than one? Th-They're all...
[He doubles over suddenly, one hand moving to his mouth as a wave of nausea washes over him, while the other grips Childe's shirt to avoid falling off. But while Childe won't be able to see why... he'll be able to smell it.]
[From just across the buoy, drawn in by a noticeably very cold ocean breeze, comes the distinct scent of rotting flesh. The scent and the cold wind that carries it seemingly only exist this close to the line.]
[Regardless, it's clear that whoever was out there won't be coming back.]