Spurred by armored ankles, Irvine kicked up dust down a well-trod path. While his very strange companion blindly stared off ahead, lost in thoughts he couldn’t hope to understand, he could only fret and stress about the smug little specter hitching in his mane. He hoped she wasn’t cheeky enough to curse it. Saundra was enough a stress for a grounded worrywart, as much as he cared for her. And he was quite vocal about it (hoping, praying, Saundra’s poor ears might overhear).
“…You shouldn’t have enabled her like that. No one should. It’s. It’s like - rolling a snowball down a mountain. ” He pauses scolding to keep his breath as strong as his stride. “ You may think this is harmless fun for now, but I - I promise you, you have no idea how carried away this can get. ”
There was silence, save for the rhythm of hooves against dirt. On went the story’s very curious party of adventurers: A delusional knight, a pessimistic steed, and a mischievous ghost.
What a story this will be.
“ We’re, uh - going to a village we’ve been at before. She likes to tell stories at the tavern. ”
“ Heh, You think a dead woman got anything t’ lose? Tch, I been through ‘lot worse’n some wild zangoose chase. “
Even as mischievous as she was, she didn’t see it necessary to course either of the grassy pokemon (Or rather, not yet potentially). While she did seem to bring it up more often than not, it was mostly an either an act of intimidation or a last resort, erring more one the sided of harsh tricks and scares for the more ‘entertaining’ route, rather than acts of aggression either on her part or not.
“ Ay, a tavern? Haven’t been t’wunna them fer couple hundred years.”
Which was...partially true, in a half-sense. As a being sustained purely by lifeforce of others alone, any sort of food or drink centered place served very little actual purpose to the undead doll. Rather, opposed to the time when she would rarely go while still alive, she would prey upon the inebriated patrons of the bar, probably causing more mental trauma even then the beverage itself would.
“ Tell me, how many them stories are true, n’ how many ‘em as honest as I am? “
