"Now, that's a cute little coffin. Is it curved of one huge ass yellow sandstone and has an big ass owl curved into its lid? I… like it. It gives the whole mummy vibe. Now, I get why the whole place is covered in toilet paper and cobwebs as if it were Halloween," I said to Dee3, trying my best to hide my true thoughts, as I placed the pristine curse prosthetics of Mr. Birdie in it. It was not Mr. Birdie, but it belonged to him, we had to make do with it.
At least Mr. Birdie had his curse prosthetics to leave behind. We curse users, however, are damned never to get a proper burial or any kind of send-off. Our bodies are simply devoured by our own curse cores after death, as if it were a punishment for practicing the curse arts. It's not like we care what happens after we die, but those we leave behind are robbed of a proper chance to say goodbye. This was because whoever kills us almost certainly collects our curse tools or cores as their loot, leaving nothing behind to mourn.
