but WEEHHH rosamund!! she's like, conscious, after a while. it takes a bit. but even so, she doesn't move, just stares at the ceiling, like she can't see the point in getting up.]
she's healed! kind of. there's still a lot of blood all over and it's like, functional, rather than a clean slate. she's also missing a leg, though it isn't an open wound now.]
... Rosamund. [she says after a moment, exhausted.]
[she is absolutely gross with blood and gore bits, sorry, it's just a mess. it's in her hair, her clothes, on her face. most of it doesn't seem to be her own blood, save for the chest hole (which is just a gouge now) and her leg. and her side and her arm but those are less important.
she will let rosamund do whatever she wants!]
Okay. [she'll just ragdoll her and stare at her leg.]
As much as she'd like to put her faith in modern medicine, she will still clean that chest gouge first and immediately swap to a clean wet towel thereafter. Moving onto the next worst cuts, working diligently, eyes flicking up to nervously watch the other girl's face all the while.]
Are you in pain still? Did the machine numb things a little?
I can get you more medicine. They have stuff for that now. [Pain relievers. Magic stuff by way of sheer human ingenuity.]
Even if it wasn't your worst, it's still what's wrong right now. And it's okay to not be okay with it.
[Rosamund is mostly done with the cuts, and now moves onto cleaning duty. The wounded areas are clear, it's the rest of her that's going to stink to high heaven if nothing gets down.
She dips a cloth in and dabs at her face, bracing her at the cheek with her free hand.]
Then a friend right here might insist you take some now.
[Accompanied by a look that broaches no argument. But first let's get this blood out of the way. What if she swallows some taking the pills and gets some terrible disease?
Rosamund brushes her hair back and tends to the mess with gentle strokes. Her eyes, the left and then the right, rustling the lashes. Over her lips, catching the edges, the chin under and around the nose. Dip the cloth and wring it, then broader strokes at her cheeks, jaw, and brow.]
Is it one of the others'? Or someone who attacked you?
[fair enough, she doesn't argue further - something about a no-nonsense blonde that reminds her of home. she has to close her eyes, lost for a second, and then immediately open them again. rosamund is vastly preferable to look at over everything she imagines when she's left to her own devices.
as rosamund cleans, she'll find black scales under some of that blood. they look a bit like snake scales, and they change colors, rippling from white and teal to pink to a deep red, and then back to the teal. it's a very familiar teal, almost light green, reminiscent of a certain cleric's robes.]
Ichiban's, mostly. [said a little distantly.] A bus ate him and the spray hit me. And an apple punched a vine through his head in front of me.
[That's a new one. At least as far as living through it goes. She can't say she loves a single one of these implications. Nor these scales. She's careful when she finds them, takes care not to upset their grain, but her curiousity is drawn direct to it.]
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but WEEHHH rosamund!! she's like, conscious, after a while. it takes a bit. but even so, she doesn't move, just stares at the ceiling, like she can't see the point in getting up.]
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Rosamund rolls to her knees, perking up when she realizes her eyes are open.]
Throné?
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she's healed! kind of. there's still a lot of blood all over and it's like, functional, rather than a clean slate. she's also missing a leg, though it isn't an open wound now.]
... Rosamund. [she says after a moment, exhausted.]
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You're all right?
[No, actually. No she's not. At once she's on her feet, fetching a bowl of water, a damp cloth.]
Here, you're still filthy. I wanted to help earlier but you needed to sleep, and — here, let me.
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she will let rosamund do whatever she wants!]
Okay. [she'll just ragdoll her and stare at her leg.]
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As much as she'd like to put her faith in modern medicine, she will still clean that chest gouge first and immediately swap to a clean wet towel thereafter. Moving onto the next worst cuts, working diligently, eyes flicking up to nervously watch the other girl's face all the while.]
Are you in pain still? Did the machine numb things a little?
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... No, but it doesn't hurt. [or, well. it does, but she has an insane amount of pain tolerance.] I...
[a beat, and then she kind of laughs, finally.]
I was going to say I've had worse. But I don't think I can say that anymore.
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She pulls back just to frown.]
I can get you more medicine. They have stuff for that now. [Pain relievers. Magic stuff by way of sheer human ingenuity.]
Even if it wasn't your worst, it's still what's wrong right now. And it's okay to not be okay with it.
[Rosamund is mostly done with the cuts, and now moves onto cleaning duty. The wounded areas are clear, it's the rest of her that's going to stink to high heaven if nothing gets down.
She dips a cloth in and dabs at her face, bracing her at the cheek with her free hand.]
Let me know if the water's too hot.
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... A friend at home would've insisted that I take one of her concoctions. [she says, absently, in regards to pain killers.
throné does flinch a bit at the water on her face, but it's instinctive.]
It's not too hot. [she says, quietly.] ... None of that blood is mine.
[on her face! so scrub, basically, it's fine.]
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[Accompanied by a look that broaches no argument. But first let's get this blood out of the way. What if she swallows some taking the pills and gets some terrible disease?
Rosamund brushes her hair back and tends to the mess with gentle strokes. Her eyes, the left and then the right, rustling the lashes. Over her lips, catching the edges, the chin under and around the nose. Dip the cloth and wring it, then broader strokes at her cheeks, jaw, and brow.]
Is it one of the others'? Or someone who attacked you?
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as rosamund cleans, she'll find black scales under some of that blood. they look a bit like snake scales, and they change colors, rippling from white and teal to pink to a deep red, and then back to the teal. it's a very familiar teal, almost light green, reminiscent of a certain cleric's robes.]
Ichiban's, mostly. [said a little distantly.] A bus ate him and the spray hit me. And an apple punched a vine through his head in front of me.
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[That's a new one. At least as far as living through it goes. She can't say she loves a single one of these implications. Nor these scales. She's careful when she finds them, takes care not to upset their grain, but her curiousity is drawn direct to it.]
And what are these?
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... Oh. [she breathes out.] This week. We've been... we've been changing.
Once a Blacksnake, always a Blacksnake.
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[Well if it's all good, then maybe she should focus on other things. Rosamund wrings out the cloth and sets upon her collar next.]
They're very pretty. You could have had a much worse effect. I've known some people with problems like that.
Do you need me to help with your clothes? Should I take them off to finish up? There's robes if you want them.
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[and then:]
You can do whatever you'd like. [she'll let rosamund take care of her if she wants! i will release you from this thread your poor inbox]