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+--- Thread: Redsand Canyon she told me not to step on the cracks (/showthread.php?tid=42794)
she told me not to step on the cracks - Hela - July 23, 2020
the woman finds shelter under the curve of an outcropping as the rain turns furious, stinging against the red stone. languidly she moves to stretch out against the rock, tail-tip flicking as she surveys the stone. it can not be much later than midday, but the canyon is besieged by darkness, shadows stretching out alongside the rock.
shifting, hela moves to groom her forelimb, muzzle moving over the scar tissue there, tugging away dead skin and cleaning away red earth from the place minori's fangs had rent skin and sinew a month past, poking curiously at the senseless part of her limb, where the touch of her own muzzle does not register. nerve-damage, an oddity that she tests with a press of her fangs, wondering at the numbness of it.
RE: she told me not to step on the cracks - Colin - July 23, 2020
All he can think of as he's watching the rain is how much it's different, still, from the rain back home. It runs in rivulets down the canyon walls, carrying the dirt with it. He lets it soak through his coat.
The streets are dim and choked by mist, and the water swallows his toes, sloshing around without any storm drains to go down. An outcropping looms just ahead, and under that outcropping is a figure, huddled up against the rock. Waterlogged, he shivers.
Brunette and heavily scarred, he doesn't recognise her face, even in the dark. He walks up to her as if he is knocking, bent over, on a plexiglass pane of a taxi cab.
The streets are dim and choked by mist, and the water swallows his toes, sloshing around without any storm drains to go down. An outcropping looms just ahead, and under that outcropping is a figure, huddled up against the rock. Waterlogged, he shivers.
Brunette and heavily scarred, he doesn't recognise her face, even in the dark. He walks up to her as if he is knocking, bent over, on a plexiglass pane of a taxi cab.
Hello,he says over the rain.
I don't believe I've met you yet.
RE: she told me not to step on the cracks - Hela - July 23, 2020
from the rain there comes a man, visible first only by the negative space he presents, the void where rain does not fall. when he steps close enough to be distinguishable, it is a haggard, water-logged face that looms from the grey. "you haven't," answered the warlord, gaze lingering on the roughly-hewn features a moment before straightening, rising to her sit on her haunches.
"hela," she offers finally. something follows this man, existing just inches from waterlogged pelt, that same negative space. something haunted. it is intrigue that has the melonii gesture to the void beside her, a careful semi-circle of dry earth.
RE: she told me not to step on the cracks - Colin - July 24, 2020
The girl, Hela, talks like every word is costing her. She reminds him of Finley in that they are both misers who sleep sitting up with a loaded pistol on their nightstand.
He sits down next to her. Discomfort wracks him, but he does not let it show. She gives her name, and as the rainwater drips off of his chin, he gives his.
Donovan, a wolf in a business vest bursting at the seams, their mighty proselytizer-- like a Jehovah's witness, though infinitely more dangerous.
Hela exudes the same kind of danger. She almost makes him wish that he had a weapon on him too. As for her, it didn't matter. She was the weapon, herself.
He sits down next to her. Discomfort wracks him, but he does not let it show. She gives her name, and as the rainwater drips off of his chin, he gives his.
Colin.And then, as an afterthought:
Donovan brought you here?He asks as if he is expecting a yes as an answer.
Donovan, a wolf in a business vest bursting at the seams, their mighty proselytizer-- like a Jehovah's witness, though infinitely more dangerous.
Hela exudes the same kind of danger. She almost makes him wish that he had a weapon on him too. As for her, it didn't matter. She was the weapon, herself.