(no subject)
Some wrecks are personal -
some wrecks are physical.
A last lingering wetness still holds on to Mai's skin underneath her clothes as she steps almost unthinkingly into the Bar, a grey malaise that clings to the color of her skin and the curve of her shoulders. The bandage on her left knee feels out of place, unjustifiable; so much effort expended on such a minor wound.
She pats Bar on the counter as she walks behind it to pour herself a glass of water, offering it a weak smile of thank-you-I'll-be-fine-let-me-do-this-for-you before drinking the entire glass in two quick gulps and refilling.
She sets her glass back on the counter, disappears from view; she sets a drink-fixing manual on the counter beside it, then steps back out from around the bar.
She takes a sip of water and pretends that the words she reads mean something to her.
[tinytags: mai tokiha]
some wrecks are physical.
A last lingering wetness still holds on to Mai's skin underneath her clothes as she steps almost unthinkingly into the Bar, a grey malaise that clings to the color of her skin and the curve of her shoulders. The bandage on her left knee feels out of place, unjustifiable; so much effort expended on such a minor wound.
She pats Bar on the counter as she walks behind it to pour herself a glass of water, offering it a weak smile of thank-you-I'll-be-fine-let-me-do-this-for-you before drinking the entire glass in two quick gulps and refilling.
She sets her glass back on the counter, disappears from view; she sets a drink-fixing manual on the counter beside it, then steps back out from around the bar.
She takes a sip of water and pretends that the words she reads mean something to her.
[tinytags: mai tokiha]