Among The Tombstones || Shivonne & Nicholas
Shivonne enjoyed her work, loved it even she might say. Her witchcraft was her soul through and through and to work as close to the After as it was possible to do gave her a sense of peace for which she was constantly grateful. Though the majority who interacted with her in her work would be hard-pressed to think so. Of course, that was the way she preferred it.
There was one (albeit minimal) thorn in her side: Nicholas. The wolf worked well and one couldn’t argue with results but he was just that... a wolf. The graveyard and ME’s office was her domain, a place in which her magic reigned and the small of wet dog could linger something awful.
She was patrolling the grounds, walking among the pockets of final resting places, feeling the odd pull, or push, from certain spaces though it was all familiar to her now. Shivonne came to a stop mid-step at the sight of the Groundskeeper and didn’t bother to hide the distaste in her expression.
Putting her hands in her lab-coat pockets she put her weight on one side, gently lent against a tomb, and spoke, “Evening Cujo, I didn’t know it was time for walkies.”