she held on to all she had left of him [open thread]

[implored]

Who: Gemma [implored] and anybody.
What: Wandering around outside the cathedral.
Where: Cathedral.
When: A few hours after the meteor's impact.

Comments

[implored]

This was too much-she shouldn't have left. She shouldn't have abandoned the proclaimed safety of the chapel to feed her own curiosity, to see if she was as powerful as she had hoped. One tear made its way past her almost immaculate British upbringing of emotionlessness, but she pressed her face to the cloth that adorned her shoulder to wipe it away. The dress she wore was the same she had arrived in, a deep green that the dressmaker had said accented her eyes perfectly.

But she didn't care about the gown-didn't care if she had a hump on her back or was missing an eye. She wanted to go home, or to what had been the closest thing she could name as such. America was not her birth land, and nor was England-she longed desperately for the humid, blistering heat of India, for the dark-skinned people and the naan and even the snakes. She missed her nursemaid, Sarita, and she missed-she missed Kartik.

But he was dead, and it was best not to dwell on the departed, lest one forget to live.

Such were her thoughts when a male voice surprised her, shattered her thoughts and her despair. To be found in such a state by a man would undoubtedly tarnish her reputation, and she would be counted among the ruffians and the prostitutes. Once she remembered that this was not her world, not her society, the audacity of the situation waned a bit, but she was still tensed to either run or defend herself. A swift jab to the jaw should do the trick, she mentally told herself. Then again, she did not know who this man was, and therefore had no reason to be hostile-she hadn't even gotten a look at his face yet. So instead she just gave the best curtsy she could, red-gold curls falling over her shoulders. "'Tis just a scratch, sir." She forgot completely if she was supposed to rise before he had introduced himself, or after. Without a proper escort she decided that it was best to act on her own and straightened, using her free hand to apply pressure to the wound.

And then, another voice, again male. She cursed all the saints-each by name-that she was completely unescorted and therefore under quite reputable circumstances. But she turned towards the new voice, again not paying much attention to the speaker, and curtsied again. Her knees protested horrendously, but she held it as long as the first and then rose, smiling politely at neither in particular. To show favoritism to either would surely insult the other, and then-she recalled that she knew nothing of them, and chastised herself for being such a ninny. "I would not wish to be an imposition, sirs."

[truestblood]

Kaname stepped forward, but made no attempt to approach the woman, if only to see who else had spoken. It had been clearly a male’s voice, but Kaname thought he’d made a mistake upon looking at the other person; though it was a short-lived confusion. Women didn’t have such broad shoulders. Kaname glanced back at the female, standing there with her polite manners and bleeding hand. Were they late like him or merely wandering the grounds?

“You would hardly be an imposition,” Kaname said, returning the civility she had shown. He bowed courteously to her, in hopes that it would reassure her. Having two strangers come upon her in a forest would probably fray her nerves, especially since they were both men and in a strange land. “My name is Kaname Kuran, Lady...?”

She gave the impression of an aristocratic, so Kaname offered her the title. He briefly glanced at the other man, wondering if he would make the same gesture.

[implored]

[ooc; no worries (: and i am so sorry that this took so long--i went out of town for the holiday.]

"Gemma," she answered automatically. "Gemma Doyle." Then the first man's name registered in her mind, and an almost relieved smile flashed over her lips before it was replaced with the quaint expression decorum allowed. "Master Kuran," she greeted again, "it is a pleasure to meet you in person.

Jade eyes turned towards the other man, and she had to catch herself before she flinched. Pink. His hair was bright pink. But nothing about her showed that she was floored by his appearance, and she merely smiled at him again. She noted, idly, that her cheeks were beginning to ache. "Master Marluxia." How to proceed was completely beyond her, and so she decided to make things up as she went along. Surely there could be no harm in doing so.

"If you insist, sirs, then I would gratefully accept assistance. I've cut my hand, and find myself without a proper bandage of any sort. I should tear my dress were it not stained so, and all I can rightfully ask is if either of you have anything I could use to wrap the wound until I return to the chapel and find proper medical supplies." That seemed about right, and Gemma gave herself a mental pat on the back for thinking so quickly.

[truestblood]

[ooc| That's okay~]

Memory stirred, and Kaname was able to place her voice to her name. He didn't smile, but his expression softened a degree in recognition.

"Likewise, Lady Gemma. I didn't expect to meet you so soon," Kaname replied smoothly. He glanced at the other man and inclined his head ever so briefly, an acknowledgment. He didn't have the chance to greet him properly before Gemma spoke. Her request was a sensible one.

Kaname pulled out a hankerchief from his jacket. It had served him no practical purpose, other than something that someone had stuck into his pocket. It wasn't without traces of dirt, which wasn't odd considering the circumstances; he folded it so that Gemma could use the cleanest part to press her wound. It hung in the air, the sweet scent of blood, but Kaname calmly disregarded it with ease from long practice. He approached Gemma and offered it to her, but not without a glance at the other person, "Unless Marluxia has something better to offer?"