From the outset at a distance, her tank top is missing three inches, at the bottom where her skin is bare to the world, and all of it is covered in blood, pus, and those unnamed bodily fluids. Her hair is everywhere, right arm has a gash, thigh is wrapped tight with fabric that's faintly red, and her lower back has long deep scratches. Not to mention all the little signs of fighting everywhere on her.
Still she's also looked much worse.
Since she's staring at the docks in a quiet, all-business, methodical manner, gun and flashlight in hand.
Jack has also looked worse, and he's looked much better. But that latter ihas usually happened when he's wearing a dress.
Right now, his hat is missing, and his light fluffy strawberry-blonde hair has streaks of red in it. His cutlasses are bloodstained, and one is in his hand in readiness.
He's also whistling a jaunty tune, right up until he recognises Jo and sees her hurt. Or rather - realises how much he doesn't see about her hurt.
"Are you hurt?"
For once, for once, that's a genuine question and not a rhetorical tease.
Wolfgang von Vegas is torn and conflicted. On the one hand, there are things to kill that try to fight him and are fun to tear apart. On the other hand, he can't get out of the town and he feels trapped. This and the conflict itself is making him angry and frustrated. Also, the flying things and dog-like things are not good to eat.
He's topless, now, and the blonde hair covering his shoulders and part of his back is splattered with blood, but it's mostly concentrated around his mouth and hands.
Comments 134
From the outset at a distance, her tank top is missing three inches, at the bottom where her skin is bare to the world, and all of it is covered in blood, pus, and those unnamed bodily fluids. Her hair is everywhere, right arm has a gash, thigh is wrapped tight with fabric that's faintly red, and her lower back has long deep scratches. Not to mention all the little signs of fighting everywhere on her.
Still she's also looked much worse.
Since she's staring at the docks in a quiet, all-business, methodical manner, gun and flashlight in hand.
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Right now, his hat is missing, and his light fluffy strawberry-blonde hair has streaks of red in it. His cutlasses are bloodstained, and one is in his hand in readiness.
He's also whistling a jaunty tune, right up until he recognises Jo and sees her hurt. Or rather - realises how much he doesn't see about her hurt.
"Are you hurt?"
For once, for once, that's a genuine question and not a rhetorical tease.
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"Only when I breathe." Beat. "Going for the summer breeze look, yourself?"
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"Fighting blind in this town. Taking more hits than I'd like."
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He's topless, now, and the blonde hair covering his shoulders and part of his back is splattered with blood, but it's mostly concentrated around his mouth and hands.
He's dealing with his frustration with violence.
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And something bright at about human shoulder height.
Beyond is the silhouette of a human.
(And the smell of gunpowder, metal, leather, sweat, and desperation.)
"Hello?"
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Or, exposes a lot of teeth, anyway.
"Hello there! Have you found a way out?"
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"Are you all right?"
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