As the rest of the brain drains from the skull and falls among the pile of refuse, Jael makes a bit of a face. Sometimes the work was a little... gruesome, for her tastes. Maybe a little gory. Oops. Accidentally turning her own stomach in the process wasn't something she was proud of, but the girl takes this as a good excuse to set aside the skull and dump the refuse into the appropriate bucket. Ew. She could deal with that (or get someone else to deal with that) later. Jael moved away to wipe her paws clean on the sand before returning to give Gilgamesh her undivided attention. When she settled beside him, it was perhaps a bit closer than socially acceptable. Just a bit. She was relatively clear of guts, and he didn't strike her as the squeamish type.
Right, the market, the gaps. There was the name of the pack again, the Armada. The ones who they weren't on the best terms with. Jael rests her chin on her paws as he speaks, looking up into his face. "You say we aren't friends with the Armada, do our traders still go to their market?" Surely it would have a poor impact on their standing and the deals they'd make. Jael thinks it through, but there's a glint in her eye. She wants to see the market for herself, and there's an excited little expectation in her gaze as she looks to Gil.
"The island is full of treasures from the ones who came before. Things in abundance here that should have a lot of value to the right buyer." Jael is observant. She's seen all the things hiding among the dirt. Bits of plastic, glass, building materials that could be broken apart and repurposed. "I want to see the natural resources on the other islands. Feathers for crafters and if we can harvest them alive the exotic pet trade is a big deal." Before she can realize what exactly she's said, the words taste funny on her lips. That felt... odd. Jael's gaze dropped. How did she manage to make herself feel this way?
As her keepers, Gilgamesh and Modesty may join any of Jael’s threads if they deem necessary.
Professor
