camille catchall

[sonorant]

are you really our singular live action

Comments

[scrapdraught]

[The girl's sweet. It makes her teeth grit as she continues to avoid dealing with the leeches, skin crawling and scars thrumming. She'll have to catch her later probably, put on better airs and salvage whatever she can of a first impression.]

Uh — no? I was going to try brute force, but if you've got pointers I'll take them.

[sonorant]

.... I've been told you have to use your blood. [ very unfortunately, is her tone and expression. ] A little should be enough.

[scrapdraught]

[Stares at her.

Then she looks to the sky, jaw clenched and lips pulled in.]

...Fuck it.

[She quickly hitches the robe a couple inches and rips a leech off, rapid and ruthless. It's tossed into the water as she swipes her hand through the the dripping nick in-between the winding words.

It's over and covered up in a split second. She keeps her eyes on the girl with her hand up, balancing the well of blood on her fingertips. Her eyes are hard. They demand a binding silence, unspoken but potent as an echoed shout.]

Do I wipe it on or what?

[sonorant]

[ robin is not cowed, but she is polite and respectful. it's not as if she doesn't understand where privacy is needed, and it's not her situation to air. ]

I believe so. It only needs a bit of contact.

[scrapdraught]

[sweet robin you are so good and kind

Camille looks unsure, but she gets on her knees and wipes her fingers over the lid. It pops, she startles. Gingerly she lifts the lid and finds her sweater, deepest navy, folded tightly over a pair of her jeans and boots. Her eyes close in relief.]

Thanks. [A pause.] And...sorry.