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Heavy boots sank into the muddy ground.
Plop.
Plop.
The walking came to a sudden stop, replaced by the screeching of a horrified sound. There, beneath the barren tree's shade, laid a corpse. Oh, my heart, what an horrifying sight it was, the raindrops passing through its empty ribcage and dying on her sage cape. Yet it was nothing to that of its jaw trembling, as the words dropped out:
"Do not scream at ugly strangers, it is rude."
The other lady, of tall stature yet of fragile heart, her hand resting on her sword's handle, answered in a trembling voice:
"Oh, I believed you dead! I did not mean to insult you!
— Dead? Can't you see my lungs?
— Your lungs?
— Exactly."
No lungs sat in its chest.
"What...?
— Animals die all the time. There's no need to make a big deal out of it.
— I don't usually hear them talk...
— Neither do I.
— Then, how do you?
— I'm sure you'd like knowing such a thing.
— Yes. Tell me.
— Mh. No.
— Why not?"
The corpse stood up, still lower than the other, tilting its head in mocking curiosity.
"Why would I?
— Well- Fine. Can you at least tell me your name?
— You may call me Rotten.
— Rotten? That's a weird name.
— And what might be yours be, bastion of normality?
— Heroine.
— Is it, truly?
— With an "e" at the end.
— Fascinating.
— It's quite different! Mine is positive. It's nice. Rotten... it's not really a great thing to be.
— Yet it is what I am.
— But, do you really want it to define you?
— It is an accurate and notable descriptor.
— I... guess.
— Did you name yourself "Heroine" because it is the image of yourself you want to project into the world?"
A slight blush rose in her cheeks as she looked away.
"I- maybe."
Suddenly, the corpse was much too close for comfort, the Heroine's gaze locked into the eggshell white orb and dark void that served as its eyes.
"You want people to see you as reliable. Kind. Strong. But you're scared."
Its voice was almost a whisper, but at such a distance, she hears it clear as day. She felt the vibrations shaking her whole body when it tapped her steel chestplate.
"That's why you wear this. Because you want to be safe."
It slid away, along with a metallic noise.
"Good. I wouldn't have ended up like this if I was a careful as you."
For a moment, the woman stood there, in shocked silence, as the other walked a way holding in its skeletal hand... Heroine's very own sword.
"Hey, give that back!"
She lunged after it, grabbing its forearm, and it struggled against her grip, pulling and pulling, until it fell to the muddy floor. The other had not let go, tensing at the sight of the split off arm twitching in her palm. She waited not a moment to take her sword and throw the limb away.
"Mh... Unfair. Why must I fight with my pathetic corpse when you all have weapons?
— You could've asked!
— Would you have given it?
— No!
— Then why should've I?
— Because it's polite!
— Whats the point of being polite if it doesn't get you what you want?"
The arm crawled into its body's, laying where a stomach should be instead.
"You'd still have both your arms!
— If it fell that easily, it was going to at some point. Now or later... It doesn't matter. I'll be able to reattach it easily.
— But- theft is really mean! And you don't want to be mean, do you?"
It was hard to tell, due to how hollow her eyes were, but it seemed as though the dead woman was almost looking away in shame. Heroine hoped it was the case, at least.
"Perhaps. Oh, well. It was pointless either way. Have a nice day, miss."
And it left, just like that.
"Goodbye." answered the other, voice too low for her to hear.