[ Rather than just dump it in his pocket though, he keeps it clasped in his hand for a moment as his other hand hovers over the floor. Slowly, a thin vine of dogbane starts to grow. The ground is dead enough that it's decent enough conditions, meaning that when he snaps into it the insides are usable to make a string with. It's flexible and thin enough that once it's long enough and he pulls it loose he ties it around the earring, tying it tight, before he twists more of the fibers until he can make a necklace from it. He pulls it over his head, letting it rest there.
That way, it'll be secure.
And close to his heart. ]
There.
[ His hands are sore from handling it, and he probably worked silently for the meantime, shaking his head when she asks if he's tired. ]
no subject
That way, it'll be secure.
And close to his heart. ]
There.
[ His hands are sore from handling it, and he probably worked silently for the meantime, shaking his head when she asks if he's tired. ]
I got enough rest just by staying here.