Likewise, it was cute, in a slightly creepy, handmade sort of way.
Seraphina picked it up.
The moment her small, bare fingers brushed the purple fabric, her stomach violently lurched.
Her Spirit Sight, which had been blinded by the static of the tent, suddenly focused on the object in her hand.
The plush rabbit wasn't just a toy; it was vibrating with a condensed, sickly, pulsating dark green mana.
It didn't smell like fabric or stuffing.
To her magical senses, it smelled exactly like rotting meat, old copper, and the sharp, terrifying scent of an open grave.
"Ew," Seraphina gasped, physically recoiling.
She held the plushie out by the very tip of its floppy ear, as if it were a dead rat.
"What is it, my lady?" Sir Gallahan asked, stepping closer and looking up at her on Boris's shoulders.
"It smells bad, Sir Gally," Seraphina complained, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "It smells like rotten eggs. It feels gross."
