Aconan stretched, cracking the joints in her back and neck before she picked up the needle and thread again. A tumble down to the catacombs had left a large rip in her jacket, and considering who was around, she didn’t want to be looking like a scruffy layabout. Thankfully Loupsus’s packs had survived the fall, and in the supplies she’d brought (among other things) were needle and thread in black, grey and her hemotype green. Licking the green coloured thread to fit it through the eye of the needle, she began to neatly stitch the rip together, trying to make as invisible as she could, given the constraints of the tear. It was slow, methodical work, and as boring as it was, it was helping settle her nerves.

She hadn’t been nervous, initially. I mean, psychics were a thing, but ghosts were just imprints left behind, right? How scary could they be? Surely not as scary as the fire and the chase and - everything that had happened last time. But she’d underestimated how…..creepy, the abandoned mansion was. How it felt like someone was watching, waiting. The worst thing had been that time when someone had pushed her but /nobody was there/. Logically, Aconan knew it had been a ghost, but she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself yet.

Concentrate on the stitching, she told herself even as her hands wobbled slightly. She took a deep breath, and leaned against her lusus, who was lying behind her, taking his own break. Still, his fur was fluffed and whilst one set of ears were alert on guard, the other were pinned back. Loupsus didn’t like this place either.