Just... when someone goes home. [He shifts a bit, then points towards the bridge- not far away from where they are now is a little collection of stone heads, of varying size, detail, and age, from the look of things; some have bits of moss growing on them, or dirt washed on from the rain and melting snow, and some are newer and cleanly chipped. By now there's eight of them- nine, counting Anise.]
no subject