[ It takes a minute or so for Max to get comfortable, and she tries not to let out a grunt of exertion as Basil helps her back to the bed. She hates feeling this helpless. It makes her want to lash out, despite everything, all the kindness and acceptance, because that's what she's learned. When you're helpless, others will take advantage of you. Accepting help is just another way to provide the world with ammunition.
It's...so hard, not to think that way. Even with all the evidence to the contrary. It's so hard to keep the anger in her from bubbling over and burning those who are just trying to help.
So all Max does is nod. It's okay. She knows he'll come back. (She knows, right?) She knows, he's not leaving her. Max simply nods, watching him silently and stretching out her legs. Once he's gone, she leans her head back on the side of his bed and closes her eyes. The violin's still screeching in her ears, and she murmurs, ] I still don't understand...why anyone's this nice to me.
[ Just to let it out. Just a little. Just so she doesn't keep spilling how utterly weak she always is.
Her ears twitch as the soft sounds of Basil's footsteps grow slightly fainter. As she can hear the clattering of cabinet doors, the gathering of supplies. Only when those footsteps get louder, as he returns to the room, does Max open her eyes again. She tries to manage a little grateful smile, but it falls flat. ]
Uh... Here... [ She reaches down to roll up her jeans, a lot easier now that they're not soaked.
What he'll see are a collection of bites, some shallow, some incredibly deep, which are where the jam-like blood and moss are leaking from. They look like they've come from something about the size of a medium-sized dog, but with many, many more sharp needle-like teeth.
The most unsettling part of it is...well, her body is dead. Pale and corpse-like. Therefore, the injuries all appear post-mortem, slightly off and wrong. They aren't red with inflammation, aren't actively bleeding, just dripping. With so many of them, it's not how they should be. ]
cw: gore, corpse desecration????
It's...so hard, not to think that way. Even with all the evidence to the contrary. It's so hard to keep the anger in her from bubbling over and burning those who are just trying to help.
So all Max does is nod. It's okay. She knows he'll come back. (She knows, right?) She knows, he's not leaving her. Max simply nods, watching him silently and stretching out her legs. Once he's gone, she leans her head back on the side of his bed and closes her eyes. The violin's still screeching in her ears, and she murmurs, ] I still don't understand...why anyone's this nice to me.
[ Just to let it out. Just a little. Just so she doesn't keep spilling how utterly weak she always is.
Her ears twitch as the soft sounds of Basil's footsteps grow slightly fainter. As she can hear the clattering of cabinet doors, the gathering of supplies. Only when those footsteps get louder, as he returns to the room, does Max open her eyes again. She tries to manage a little grateful smile, but it falls flat. ]
Uh... Here... [ She reaches down to roll up her jeans, a lot easier now that they're not soaked.
What he'll see are a collection of bites, some shallow, some incredibly deep, which are where the jam-like blood and moss are leaking from. They look like they've come from something about the size of a medium-sized dog, but with many, many more sharp needle-like teeth.
The most unsettling part of it is...well, her body is dead. Pale and corpse-like. Therefore, the injuries all appear post-mortem, slightly off and wrong. They aren't red with inflammation, aren't actively bleeding, just dripping. With so many of them, it's not how they should be. ]
...Sorry. I know it's...really gross.