The feel of fingertips brushing her skin, her deceptively warm skin, drew Star out of her somber reverie and flung her back into reality within a warm embrace. The silver-haired siren focused her gaze on the other, a dreadful sight to the eyes, of utter loss and pain for her beloved, and stayed knelt there as if her foreign kneecaps were melted into the sand. She lowered her eyes, tears swelling and her limited voice completely lost on such an occasion. These were her people being slaughtered, and so how could she not be dying with them?
Gloss rims her eyes, and her lids pressed in tight because this moment is sharp and shattering. The knot in her throat weighs down and she finds it hard for her lungs to flutter in air, but she won’t let sea water drip from her eyes. It’s a filtering thought if her eyes could even muster up tears, her sight had always been made wrong and the eyes that gave her vision on land were only a temporary solution to the permanent disability, it was a constant wonder if her body was made to work like the others. It’s a slid to the ground, knees hitting the grain of sand and she reaches out to curl her finger with the other siren, seeking comfort and words trailing out. “—H-how do you want to bury them?” She believes deeply in the respectful ceremony of burying the loved.