The Thief and the Blind.

The dark is winding and twisting, crawling in from the edges of the horizon as the sun sets on the opposite end. Her journey home is nearly completed, and Adelita pulls behind her a small cart of ores and metals, their gleam lost as the light fades. It had been a rather hard day in the mines, with Lita covered in specks of dirt and mud that cling to her coat, and she looks forward to the time to finally bathe and rest. Her magic has sapped her, to the point where she can feel the heaviness in her limbs and in every step she takes. It's to a point that the exhaustion leaves her somewhat lost, on a road that she no longer can recognize. Had she wandered so far?

Mists crawl up her legs, blanketing over the ground and crawling further out, much further than she could see. Odd. She can normally tell her way, even in such a drained state. Maybe she needed more rest than she had allowed herself. Adelita stops herself, and the mists crawl up and around metal legs, sneaking into the nooks and crannies of polished metal once she's still enough. The frown deepens on her features, and she's certain she's made a wrong turn. Maybe a path that she didn't use so often, rather than the main trade route. It feels uneven and worn underneath of her, as if there haven't been too many to walk over it and beat it into a familiar path. 

The sound of running alerts her, shaking off some stupor, footsteps chasing one another and raucous laughter piercing the now night air. It’s joyful, if a bit louder than it should be, and Adelita furrows her brow, body halted as the steps come closer and closer. The mists peel away, and a figure is revealed, wearing an almost familiar face carved in wood.

“A blessing?” Her voice is hoarse, an edge of rasp that speaks volumes of her exhaustion as her eyes fixate on the bones held out to her. It isn’t like the deities and flitting divines to ever grant her anything like a blessing. But her eyes are held on the bones, and she reaches up, fingers curling around them as she takes them. It feels like a hum under the metal of her hand as she holds them. The sensation crawls even past the meeting of skin and metal, leaving a tingle. Magic, she knows the sensation. It's something entirely separate from the feeling of ores and metals, the soft caress of an ability she's known for so long. It's jarringly different, sets her on edge in a way that she hasn't felt in an incredibly long time.

It's a sensation she doesn't really like either, and she nearly drops the bones. Instead, she clenches tighter with her fingers, and even in a grip of golden metal, the bones do not give. They're definitely something entirely unnatural, and it gives her a shiver once more down her spine. Maybe it had been a bad idea to accept.