[They troop into the tent Shepard has shared. Shepard does not look, not beyond the once, at the moving corpse of Lavellan. It was too much like a husk, and ever motion it made, every moment it sat there, pulled new tension into her back. Wrong wrong wrong.]
We have to burn it.
[It, and not him. Shepard is as terse as she's ever been, shut down and cold, projecting nothing more through the mental link than stone and steel armor, matte-black and uninviting. She is grieving, but she will never admit it, not where anyone can hear or see. Not even in thought--and so, this. She has no taste for smugness.]
no subject
We have to burn it.
[It, and not him. Shepard is as terse as she's ever been, shut down and cold, projecting nothing more through the mental link than stone and steel armor, matte-black and uninviting. She is grieving, but she will never admit it, not where anyone can hear or see. Not even in thought--and so, this. She has no taste for smugness.]
No evidence.