[ He shakes his head at the assessment, although that was also what he'd initially thought when he saw the bead— he'd dropped it in surprise when it first appeared, watched it fall from his fingertips like a drop of blood made solid. But it's not his blood ...he doesn't think, anyways... because he can do this:
He puts the bead back in his pocket and with that hand squeezes either side of the cut finger, letting some fresh blood weep out. It doesn't turn solid, though, but rather it smears when he rubs his fingertips together, just like how any normal blood works. ]
The bowls were what disappeared. I think that's what the bead is.
no subject
He puts the bead back in his pocket and with that hand squeezes either side of the cut finger, letting some fresh blood weep out. It doesn't turn solid, though, but rather it smears when he rubs his fingertips together, just like how any normal blood works. ]
The bowls were what disappeared. I think that's what the bead is.