[ It hurts more the second time, the delicate flesh newly mangled by a fresh bite. It makes the punctured skin around the first wound slide a little, and if she survives, it's going to be a disgusting mess to clean. If she dies, she'll come back whole, but it'll be a phantom ache, adding to the compounded injury and horror.
That "if" seems more likely. When Evan rounds the corner, she must look like a rabbit caught in a trap or a cat eager to chew its own limb off. Another nail has chipped from the desperate scrabbling, and her fingers are bloody when they try to tease the trap open. Her flashlight is a weapon, one to be mindful of. She doesn't go for it yet. ]
Yeah. I don't bullshit. [ She spits out, voice radiating fury. Eyes too, agitated and pained and furious. ] I said I would, and I did. Even found them.
[ Stolen from a dead man. Maybe she should have slid them on even though they're filthy and rank and need to get dunked in the pond. If she had, it'd hurt less, but she'd still be caught. ]
[ she has a flashlight, she has the boots, and she has the tendency to snap and snarl when he gets too close, at least when she's in a trap. out here, she has the freedom to do more damage than she'd be able to in trials, which is one of the reasons he hasn't already stepped forward to grab her and drag her out.
he's not overly concerned about being hurt, though. he has his cleaver, and his skin is rough enough to avoid taking serious damage. still. he knows that a rat in a corner can fight back. ]
Sure you do. Heard plenty of empty promises come outta your mouth.
[ evan steps around her to where the boots and flashlight are lying. if she gets out, she's not running very far on that ankle. she'll have to take the risk of hobbling to safety through his heavily-trapped property. how many traps can she step in before it hurts too much to even limp?
he leans down and snatches them up off the ground by the laces. they're totally worthless to him, but they were on his property, which means they belong to him. they're not there for some survivor to run off with. ]
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That "if" seems more likely. When Evan rounds the corner, she must look like a rabbit caught in a trap or a cat eager to chew its own limb off. Another nail has chipped from the desperate scrabbling, and her fingers are bloody when they try to tease the trap open. Her flashlight is a weapon, one to be mindful of. She doesn't go for it yet. ]
Yeah. I don't bullshit. [ She spits out, voice radiating fury. Eyes too, agitated and pained and furious. ] I said I would, and I did. Even found them.
[ Stolen from a dead man. Maybe she should have slid them on even though they're filthy and rank and need to get dunked in the pond. If she had, it'd hurt less, but she'd still be caught. ]
no subject
he's not overly concerned about being hurt, though. he has his cleaver, and his skin is rough enough to avoid taking serious damage. still. he knows that a rat in a corner can fight back. ]
Sure you do. Heard plenty of empty promises come outta your mouth.
[ evan steps around her to where the boots and flashlight are lying. if she gets out, she's not running very far on that ankle. she'll have to take the risk of hobbling to safety through his heavily-trapped property. how many traps can she step in before it hurts too much to even limp?
he leans down and snatches them up off the ground by the laces. they're totally worthless to him, but they were on his property, which means they belong to him. they're not there for some survivor to run off with. ]
Shoulda put 'em on first.