( it isn't particularly rude, or even thoughtless, but the way that vanessa's hands slip out of hers feels--terrifying, in a way, as though she's watching something else be pulled right from her grasp. pleading, her gaze follows vanessa's movement, watching the way she sizes up the path that lies before them as though she's faced so many things like this before, as though this is the very smallest of trials or tribulations she has to face. and what does that mean? perhaps they cannot spare the creatures--or people, or spirits, or monsters--in the bags, but if not, there should be a way to spare vanessa the effort of having to cart her through them like an invalid.
that seems to shell up more of her courage; she takes in a breath, lets it out, takes in another, forces it out again.
vanessa has her knife, something that her eyes wander over just once before drifting. it isn't unusual for her to see someone else armed like this, and she has no doubts that vanessa knows exactly what to do with such a thing. it's been a long time now since she's had a weapon of her own--and it renders her a little useless, something more of a burden than anything else. her hands press up against her chest for a moment, searching-- )
We try one, then. ( softly, as she comes up by vanessa's side--her magic won't do much, but if she can reach out, touch one of the bodies, then she'll be able to tell if there's anything inside of it at all. her jaw set, she looks at vanessa, and without warning, takes a few striding steps forward. every inch of her wants to wobble away from the thought of walking right into danger; but like always, her expression forces itself down into mild consternation.
one hand lifts, a brief blossom of light from her palm, to touch one of the body bags--
--and it lurches, screeching in agony. the weight of it swings, arching wildly on the hook; the rope creaks, waggles, and the makeshift body-bag starts to flail like a worm on a hook, the fabric ripping, creasing, exposing a huge, gaping pool of dark liquid.
tumbling back a step, she nearly runs into vanessa's shoulder, pushing at her. ) We have to run!
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that seems to shell up more of her courage; she takes in a breath, lets it out, takes in another, forces it out again.
vanessa has her knife, something that her eyes wander over just once before drifting. it isn't unusual for her to see someone else armed like this, and she has no doubts that vanessa knows exactly what to do with such a thing. it's been a long time now since she's had a weapon of her own--and it renders her a little useless, something more of a burden than anything else. her hands press up against her chest for a moment, searching-- )
We try one, then. ( softly, as she comes up by vanessa's side--her magic won't do much, but if she can reach out, touch one of the bodies, then she'll be able to tell if there's anything inside of it at all. her jaw set, she looks at vanessa, and without warning, takes a few striding steps forward. every inch of her wants to wobble away from the thought of walking right into danger; but like always, her expression forces itself down into mild consternation.
one hand lifts, a brief blossom of light from her palm, to touch one of the body bags--
--and it lurches, screeching in agony. the weight of it swings, arching wildly on the hook; the rope creaks, waggles, and the makeshift body-bag starts to flail like a worm on a hook, the fabric ripping, creasing, exposing a huge, gaping pool of dark liquid.
tumbling back a step, she nearly runs into vanessa's shoulder, pushing at her. ) We have to run!