[i]-jingle jingle jingle-[/i]

Silver bells sing their song from Dolce’s curls, swaying gently from their strings.

There’s no breeze. No wind at all. The storm has passed through. All is quiet in its wake. Just a few little bells, singing gently, from a little sheep, swaying gently. Still upright, through smile and sword. Still upright, but don’t ask him how.

Dolce rips the paper from his notepad without a sound. Slow and steady. Along the line. Not a tear out of place. He folds it. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

He pops it in his mouth. Munches without a trace of emotion.

Waste not and all that. Loose paperwork can cause all sorts of trouble.

“Vasilia? Could you pop over to one of the kitchens and fetch a few pots and pans? And perhaps some…food, of any kind? I think we may need some. Of those.”

“...mm? Oh. Yes. Yes of course, darling. I’ll just. Go and get those. And perhaps close some of the blast doors while I’m at it.”

“That seems wise.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?”

“Right. Then, I’ll…over here?”

“Of course, of course.”

“Good.”

“Yes.”

Vasilia rises silently into the sky.

Dolce stays upright.

The bells sing on.