"Fortune's a bitch," Shura replies, sliding the piece of glass back towards her and moving to wrap it back up. It isn't a priceless relic, but it has its use and she'd rather it not get shattered again.

"Dunno what exactly it means. Dragonborn hafta to agree to the whole thing, but I'm pretty sure a corpse rotting in the ground for a century couldn't consent to it. But I don't like the alternative." Undead scaleskins, what a great idea.

Aconite stills for a moment as she nears the table, then sprints, jumping from the dirt floor to Shura's chair, then to the table. She reaches her goal, and she's just so amazed and pleased with herself that she just about forgets what she was after in the first place, looking to Shura with what is probably a gleeful dragon face. Shura is less than impressed, turning her head just enough to look at the dragonet, raising a brow. "What do you want?"