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Lucinda opens the suitcase. The frozen mammoth within, now rotten and melted, was certainly but a baby by the time the ice took it. A skilled taxidermist has certainly taken its time with it, replacing lost patches of skin with wool and leather, stuffing it with cotton, fixing its dead meat on an armature of heavy aluminum wire... That is why, despite its miserable fate, it looks just like it’s running around in the fields, having fun testing its legs, perhaps mere moments before it fell into a hole in the ground and slowly froze to death with its mother still looking for it. Lifa waves a hand away but it doesn’t do much to help with the burst of smell.
Lifa: My-GOD! How come this was in an open display at a museum?!
ರೃ Lucinda: It wasn’t.
Lifa: So this smell endured for like a million years? Wow, what a great honor.
Patchwing: You give us honor all the time.
Lifa: You know, taxidermy looks so interesting! Wanna try, Patchwing?
Patchwing: No.
The moment of truth. With another snap of her fingers, Lifa has some of the skeletons gathered around. You notice that each has a little detail to it: one has a crown of roses, the other a pendant, and another has a wig with a ribbon. Some lift the mammoth while others slide the most normal mattress in the world under it. Under Lucinda’s stare, Lifa shrugs.
Lifa: It’s what we have. By the way, you may want to look away.
ರೃ Lucinda: And why would that be?
Lifa whistles. A skeleton butler comes her way wielding a saw like those used in woodworking but smaller, and then hands it over to her. Lucinda turns around without a second thought or retort.
