pretty like blood on sand

Moving forward until the sea laps at his ankles, Björn takes it in. This is coastline, prime real estate. Gorgeous, with a fine view of dove island archipelago as he scans the horizon. They are islands he'll explore some day soon, but fuck. Take it one day at a time. Take it one place at a time-- there's no telling just how many days they have left. Still, the rot prince fixates on the islands in the distance. Putting the puzzle pieces in his head together, and discerning a relative location with something resembling ease. An accurate enough bearing, for his tastes.

Speaking of his tastes. Gaze sweeping over his companion, taking her in for a long moment. Drinking in every bit of her-- a study. A snap judgement, though Björn's judgements are rarely deeper than pretty girl. That's all he needs, right? "There's no saving anyone, that's how this works." A darkness playing within his words, though the boy doesn't mean much by it. Still watching her, still curious. "How shit do things need to be, to welcome the end days?" Curious, though Björn knows all too well.

"speech"