three ❚ voice&action.

[howaverage]

[ There's a horrifying scream into the vine. Of course there's a horrifying scream into the vine - it was bound to happen, sooner or later. Then there is a scrambling sound, shufflinf and heavy breathing and, if you listen very carefully, almost someone sobbing. If one were to see her, then yes, one would see red eyes and tears - and a nasty bite on the woman's flesh, just where the shoulder meets the neck. She's holding her hand over it, but there is a lot of blood trickling down her baggy shirt (she has refused to wear the white thing, instead picking her old blue hoodie and jeans).

There are so many emotions going through her right now that she can't even express them. Rage, confusion, pain. She's angry at this. Back home, there was no freaking flower trying to eat her. She's babbling in French, frustrated. Her tears aren't just for the throbbing wound. They come from the confusion and the anger this place keeps on administering her. ]

S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un - n'importe qui. Aide-moi. Ils essaient de me manger. [ Her voice grows thinner, to a strangled whisper. ] Please.