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Post by alexharvey on Mar 1, 2013 15:35:41 GMT -5
Pru scrambled to the basement after Henry, who had naturally shoved her behind him in case they would be facing danger. She could hear Rey stomping downwards after her, halting with exasperated panting when he realized it was a false alarm.
Her eyes were fixed on the writing, more than obviously not just a note to her. The others wouldn't know and the girl had no intention to tell them. All three letters were in capitals, which was not simply to incline her name, but kind of an inside joke with the Rospevs, since her Parent's name had been Peter and Uma, the family name being Robinson and together forming their daughters nickname.
She bit on her lip when she realized how quick she had gotten used to 'had been'. To the fact that there were no more Robinsons. She suddenly felt dizzy, her head thick and numb and her vision swimming, she felt a growing, icy cold from the inside and flailed her arm about until she found something to cling onto. As her vision cleared she blinked and notice she was clasping onto Henrys sleeve.
If he looked down at her she would give him the heartiest grin she could manage and would then fix her eyes on the map, more staring than actually analyzing, since she could not read a map for the life of her, the rough fabric of Henrys shirt grasped tightly in her pale fingers.
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Post by spiritandsand on Mar 1, 2013 16:00:23 GMT -5
It started to get a little too crowdy down in the basement for Aira, and she didn't felt like there was anything else to do down there than copying the map - which Henry was already doing - so she went upstairs to get some fresh air, and scavenge the rest of the house, of course not knowing where the others had already been, but maybe they'd missed out something.
She passed by a mirror and of course she stepped backwards to have a look at herself. Half of her throat was still covered in cracked plates of solidified wolf-blood, and her hair was almost as dark as the blood. It was greasy and sticky making her look like a porcupine; the rain hadn't helped much with cleaning her. She needed a real shower. With real shampoo if that was even possible. But of course the showerhead was dry as a dehydrated rattlesnake in a sandstorm. She found a brush though and started to comb her hair - which was a living hell - and scratch off the worst dirt and blood until the others decided to join her above the ground.
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