8th July, 1895 — Morwenna Skeeter's House
Despite it being the third day of their shared despair Morwenna thought Kieran looked better than the last time she had seen him. Still thin as a bone, of course, and vaguely haunted-looking but she was hardly in a position to throw stones. She felt worn out as she never had before; the change last night had been bad, probably the worst night she had ever endured in her wolf-form (apparently one recalled none of one’s human emotions but Morwenna could not imagine why her wolf-form would have hurt itself so frantically if it had none of her human-form’s new appetite for self-destruction) but she didn’t have the energy left to care.
"I expect you've heard?" She said by way of greeting, gesturing for him to help himself to coffee from the pot and falling rather than sitting into her armchair. "Hopefully it will save me explaining myself too much." She honestly wasn't sure she could have done so, even if she had wanted to. Staying upright was enough of a struggle.
MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat