Still and less wadded up didn't make her look any less like hamburger wrapped in someone's dated Sunday's best, the white of her shirt practically lost to the mud and gore. The cloak, heavy and freshly sodden from the unforgiving torrent her pride had trapped her in visibly weighed her down, rounding her shoulders and bending her forward. The gash across her left inner thigh buried beneath layers of heavy durable black cloth appeared painful, though thankfully superficial. The head wound, hideously obvious, carried the obvious and heavily evidenced promise of blunt trauma, but worse suggested perhaps damage to the eye, perhaps even the orbital socket. With scarcely any skin left to leave marks on after whatever encounter she had with a meat grinder, one would hope that she might settle down, a pale net of scars both silver and pink, however, suggested how improbable it would be to wish for such a thing. Like a tiny dog, she didn't really seem to understand the scale and limitations of her own physical being.
With an exasperated sigh she leaned into the cool surface of the doorway, pinching the bridge of her nose only to hiss and automatically adjust her fingers away from the injuries to the right of her face, as though he were trying her patience. "You don't want to, but won't you? You owe me a fighting chance - you have two legs, I have a gut wound." Made perfect sense to her - she spoke with an entirely straight face (excusing the way it had been rearranged, anyway). "We'll stay here until the rain stops. Then you'll get it." She said it as though that settled it, lowering her hand and lifting her face to make an attempt at an intimidating stare down...
She had a remarkably whole and clean (if not somewhat lopsided) smile, all things considered, even flashing a sharp sliver of teeth. Even more remarkable was that this absolute asshole evidently recognized her own audacity, chuckling weakly. "Anyway, what does it look like happened?" She leaned away, attempting to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the stone. It sure was shiny but the broken surface of planes and chips did not offer her a clear picture. "I was going North-" Her brow furrowed, her voice softening as she concentrated, trying to push through the angry wall of agony that made her memories seem not entirely her own. Snippets appeared out of order, crashing and melding into one another, terror interspaced by unknowing. "Don't you have brigands here in Caido? Highway men? Bandits? Villains?" Wiggling the fingers of her left hand she made light of the query, as if they were discussing the monster in a child's closet and not what appeared to have been a near(?) death experience. "Must have thrown me in the river - it was a wet autumn and the water high..."
"You'd have tried to stab me, were our roles reversed." The accusation held no malice. She spoke as if simply stating a fact, as though a violent sense of self-preservation was simply a facet of human nature. Using the wall for support she sidled inside, sniffing the air like a dog as she leaned into the wall and posted out her left leg as to limit movement in the knee. "I wish I had more answers for you, but I'm going to sit - how do they treat infections here?" Sliding into a sit with her left leg stretched before her she worked single handedly to unfasten the cloak pin at her throat, only to find the cloth uncooperative and her anemic body unwilling to do anything with the sodden mess... so she instead wiggled away from it, a pained "aaaaaaahhhh" ugly and echoing in the dark hall. "Maybe I want to bleed out. Ever seen a man die of infection? It's a lot more pleasant and quicker to bleed."
With an exasperated sigh she leaned into the cool surface of the doorway, pinching the bridge of her nose only to hiss and automatically adjust her fingers away from the injuries to the right of her face, as though he were trying her patience. "You don't want to, but won't you? You owe me a fighting chance - you have two legs, I have a gut wound." Made perfect sense to her - she spoke with an entirely straight face (excusing the way it had been rearranged, anyway). "We'll stay here until the rain stops. Then you'll get it." She said it as though that settled it, lowering her hand and lifting her face to make an attempt at an intimidating stare down...
She had a remarkably whole and clean (if not somewhat lopsided) smile, all things considered, even flashing a sharp sliver of teeth. Even more remarkable was that this absolute asshole evidently recognized her own audacity, chuckling weakly. "Anyway, what does it look like happened?" She leaned away, attempting to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the stone. It sure was shiny but the broken surface of planes and chips did not offer her a clear picture. "I was going North-" Her brow furrowed, her voice softening as she concentrated, trying to push through the angry wall of agony that made her memories seem not entirely her own. Snippets appeared out of order, crashing and melding into one another, terror interspaced by unknowing. "Don't you have brigands here in Caido? Highway men? Bandits? Villains?" Wiggling the fingers of her left hand she made light of the query, as if they were discussing the monster in a child's closet and not what appeared to have been a near(?) death experience. "Must have thrown me in the river - it was a wet autumn and the water high..."
"You'd have tried to stab me, were our roles reversed." The accusation held no malice. She spoke as if simply stating a fact, as though a violent sense of self-preservation was simply a facet of human nature. Using the wall for support she sidled inside, sniffing the air like a dog as she leaned into the wall and posted out her left leg as to limit movement in the knee. "I wish I had more answers for you, but I'm going to sit - how do they treat infections here?" Sliding into a sit with her left leg stretched before her she worked single handedly to unfasten the cloak pin at her throat, only to find the cloth uncooperative and her anemic body unwilling to do anything with the sodden mess... so she instead wiggled away from it, a pained "aaaaaaahhhh" ugly and echoing in the dark hall. "Maybe I want to bleed out. Ever seen a man die of infection? It's a lot more pleasant and quicker to bleed."
