Beatrice
That had her hues flashing for a moment, so fast that it would have been missed unless the person knew what to look for— and most people lacked in that category. Perks of being unknown, perhaps. "What... Exactly were you presented with when you found it?" The brunette questioned, her fingers fiddling the the fabric that covered her frame. She'd been itching to do more, spill blood even. The stasis didn't sit well with her.
Karen
She, with eyes still closed, gestured vaguely with her hand, letting it roll around on her wrist. "She was shot to bits. Crossbows n' all 'dat. We uh... We did find 'da notes, which is what we were lookin' for in 'da first place. Including tha ones we 'ad sent 'er as a decoy." She realized she probably should be more sensitive about the subject, "It wasn't, you know, in 'er face or anyfing. It was mostly in 'er legs and chest. She bled out, by what I could tell."
Beatrice
War was war, and in the vocation that any Poppy held, that happened to be at all times without restraints or barriers. Physical pain was something the twins had gained an immunity to long before— it was the only way they'd been so inventive and skilled in the injury they themselves had inflicted, "She did her job. That's what matters. What happens next, anyway?" The woman tended not to stick around for the death since it appeared a shroud around her anyway, but curiosity managed to get the better of her just this once.
Karen
Gitten placed a hand on the back of her neck, feeling indebted to Althea to open her eyes and look at her. "Well... Normally, Bradai doesn't tend to 'da bodies of trait—" She swallowed hard, looking down at the bottom of her empty tankard, and then to the full one on the nightstand. It could wait, " 'e made an exception for you. 'e said 'dat you do good work, and 'dat you didn't deserve 'dis. I brought tha body back, and we had tha body prepared. 'er bones 'ave been preserved, nice and white. If you want tha skull, just let my bruvher know. 'e'd do it in an 'eartbeat."
Beatrice
Pearls grazed against her rosy lower bud as she watched every word the other woman chose to utter, along with her quieter demeanor she'd taken to in a relatively smooth transition. The Poppy had figured that care would have been taken, measures she'd... Demanded once. Knowing her position was the only thing that allowed her to believe she'd get away with it in that one moment and she'd been right, "I wouldn't know what to do with it— I'd ask him to keep it... Or do what he thinks is right with it— her— All of it."
Karen
"In tha Isles we keep tha skulls. My bruvher 'as like... Twenty in 'is office. Tha glabella..." She placed the tip of her pointer finger between her eyebrows, "Where all tha pieces of your 'ead meet, its totally unique. Everyone 'as a different one. We put skulls on everyfing. Sigils, flags, wax seals, fuckin' everyfing. Vhats why we don't have crypts. We 'ave city catacombs. Saves a lot uff space. Where are you from?" It should've been apparent now that Gitten loved the human skeleton. "If I were you, I'd keep it. Or anyfing uff 'ers. You guys were friends, right?"
Beatrice
"I don't think I'd count as being from anywhere." She replied nonchalantly, the question rarely asked to her from anyone who survived, "But if you're asking where we were born, that'd be Araedia. Our story isn't a pleasant one, certainly not worth rehashing." There was nothing in terms of nostalgia she'd kept. Being labeled as a monster was a lifetime banner she'd embraced as soon as consciousness had formed, "I don't do mementos. The only thing I've actually kept is the necklace that hangs around my neck, the insignia that describes my life. We're best friends, and sister, but I don't need any sort of token to remind me of it."