The vicar has performed last rites for enough people over the years to be old hat at managing the cloying stench of death, but the visceral thickness of it is enough to make even his eyes water. He presses a cloth across his mouth and nose, steadies himself, and takes those necessary steps closer to the edge of the shallow grave, to look at the bodies.
And though it is difficult to tell, given how the animals have been at them--
"Traveling clothes." His voice is thick--not from emotion, but the smell (though he's hardly going to correct someone), and then the points towards a woman's bloated, discoloured hand, at the band of paler flesh on one finger. "A missing wedding ring. And other valuables," he adds a moment later, gesturing at belts hastily slashed to aid in the removal of purses.
no subject
The vicar has performed last rites for enough people over the years to be old hat at managing the cloying stench of death, but the visceral thickness of it is enough to make even his eyes water. He presses a cloth across his mouth and nose, steadies himself, and takes those necessary steps closer to the edge of the shallow grave, to look at the bodies.
And though it is difficult to tell, given how the animals have been at them--
"Traveling clothes." His voice is thick--not from emotion, but the smell (though he's hardly going to correct someone), and then the points towards a woman's bloated, discoloured hand, at the band of paler flesh on one finger. "A missing wedding ring. And other valuables," he adds a moment later, gesturing at belts hastily slashed to aid in the removal of purses.