PC: HARROW

[headmt]

Comments

[bonetiddies]

If you want me to do your legwork for you, you'll have to choose another time. I have things to do.

[She kind of spits it at him, scowling. She's being extremely nasty! But after she says that she's just going to turn away and go back to cuddling her sword.]

[headmt]

[Okay, grumpy! That's fine. It's been a hard day as is plainly obvious, we're all allowed a little lashing out.]

Well, again, I did stupidly give my knife away, so I'll have to borrow yours.

[bonetiddies]

[That gets her to whip back to look at him, her whole stupid body trembling violently with fury from her jaw to her shoulders to her hands clasped around the hilt of her sword, her face set in a pinched, hostile expression.]

Get your own. This - this isn't a collaborative exercise. You helpless, pathetic infant, I'm not here to carry you!

[headmt]

Infant? Alright.

[Hm. Well, that's clearly a shot intended to dig in and hurt, but if it does hit a sore spot, he hides it pretty well. His face just tightens slightly, the tail thumps the ground again.]

I'm not going to go away, if that's what you're attempting to do.

[bonetiddies]

[She's still trembling at him, especially her jaw, which looks like it's set hard, fighting a bit of a losing battle? It's. . . not really a fury tremble, actually.]

[headmt]

[He'll do her the favor of not looking directly at her while she obviously goes through some shit and is like, about to cry, but he does reach over to put his hand on her back - above some bones or whatever.]

Talk about this or something else entirely?

[bonetiddies]

[Like. The absolute second he puts his hand on her back, she hunches into the fold of her arms and starts sobbing. So. Not really an answer either way.]

[headmt]

[oops there she goes. So talking about nothing is fine too. he knows she's still injured and he doesn't want to make that any worse but sobbing on your own seems worse to him so. He'll just try and wrap around her and her cursed comfort sword, putting his chin on top of her head.]

[bonetiddies]

[She clings to his shirt immediately, as embarrassingly desperate to be held by someone as she is furious at herself and humiliated by that desperation. So much of who she is is built on a foundation that she feels will shatter if she permits this, if she permits anyone to see that the Ninth House is nothing more than a desperate lonely child.

It's a vile feeling, but she has no control over it, now. He didn't leave when she tried to poison him away, so she's lost this fight already.]

[headmt]

[He'll simply stay there, quiet, as long as she permits it - less of a hug and more just trying to wrap her up in that ostentatious coat, the inside of it speckled with the moon, constellations pricked out in careful embroidery. sword in her arms and all, so protective of her softer self that she surrounds it with bone and paint to shield it. clinging back as much as she's clinging to him. He thinks now, of another girl who tries to protect herself with foul words and a rough exterior. maybe she wasn't wrong that he's a bit of a desperate, lonely child too in this moment.]

[bonetiddies]

[She. . . has a lot of tears to cry right now. She sort of hiccup cries, like she's about five years old and has lost the plot of why she's crying and is now just a messy ball of snot and feelings. Except that's not a real memory; that never was her as a child. How could it have been?

Eventually, she'll calm down a little, enough to feel embarrassed again, pushing him away by his chest, still kind of messily crying a little.]

. . . Not talk about it, I think. Some other time, perhaps.

[headmt]

[He'll let her go when she pushes, easily enough - moving to sit back where he was before, legs crossed in front of him.]

Some other time then.

[So, lets see. What else?]

Oh. I gave Wrath a tattoo?

[bonetiddies]

A tattoo? Why?

[She says skeptically, through hiccups.]

[headmt]

Indulgence, I suppose. Seemed like fun, mostly.

[Lightly, like they're just talking about the weather.]

You want one? I have the needle and ink. Only red though.

[bonetiddies]

[She sounds like she's considering it. Wild.]

. . . Not in red.

[headmt]

[oh he looks so fucking excited by this possibility

she doesnt even know if hes any good or not]

What color would you like? Easy enough to get.

[bonetiddies]

Black.

[Duh?]

[headmt]

Oh. Yes. Feels like I should have guessed that.

[yeah definitely should. He'll hold his arm up, the one with the snake in the field of flowers wrapped around it.]

You'll be wanting a full sleeve, correct?

[bonetiddies]

I can't think what I'd get that's so expansive. Though it doesn't matter. If I tire of it, I'll cut it off and regrow the skin.

[. . . Speaking of.]

I think I ought to go to the med bay. It's only a question of how long I ought to try to heal. There are repercussions equal to the length of time one spends in there.

[headmt]

[What a normal and not at all terrifying thing to say! it's fine probably.]

Mm. Perhaps just enough so you can move around properly. Just in case.

[bonetiddies]

Agreed. The way these bones were broken, they won't set properly on their own. It would be a shame to further cripple myself.

[headmt]

[Nodding! Makes sense to him. Nothing about like. Not being in pain or anything. Who cares.]

Alright. I'll help you up.

[Because this is a collaborative exercise, binch.]

[bonetiddies]

[She honestly needs. Like. A lot of help. Both of her legs are broken. One is just like, jutting out wrong to the side, but the other leg seems crushed. How did she even walk on this. She wears clothes that cover her whole body but like. It really looks like something crunched on her.]

[headmt]

[maam how the FUCK did you get to your room!!!! hello?????

well she's tiny (even if she's holding a sword too), so, probably the best solution outside of finding a wheelchair is just picking her up and hoping she can tolerate it long enough to get to the medbay.]

. . . This is going to hurt. Sorry.

[scoop!!]

[bonetiddies]

[She walked? It's fine. She really is tiny and the sword, while heavy, only adds a few pounds. He should be able to lift her just fine. It's painful, but she can tolerate it.]

I'm not a stranger to pain.

[She's lifted up, biting hard against the hiss of breath when she's moved, but - that's all. She's shaky, again, and just starts talking, the words fast and angry.]

It was pathetic how this happened. Pathetic. We had nearly succeeded in getting away from those - disgusting, monstrous things, and then I simply. Saw something I couldn't see, and fainted then and there, despite the peril it put the others in.

I tire of being an invalid. I tire of being a burden to others.

[Somehow he'll get the sense that none of this is whatever caused the emotion that had her sobbing; it comes from a different place, more okay to talk about.]