[The video turns on just as the Forge is a little too close to a pair of big blue eyes.]
And it's yours, Deneve?
[As she turns her head and lowers the Forge, the owner of the blue eyes can be seen. She's a young girl, about twelve years old with sunny blonde hair and what seems to be a terminal frown. She glares off screen, presumably in Deneve's
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Comments 27
((OOC: Try as he might he won't be able to find her. So that leads to your OOC note. \o/))
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Trevor.
[... she can't really think of anything else. Obligation made her reply but now she doesn't know what to say.]
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Deneve, are you all right? What happened to that girl?
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[As to 'that girl,' she's not too keen to discuss it.]
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[Her voice sounds so honeyed it's hard to tell if she's being sarcastic or not. In any case she agrees about the haircut.]
Your sister...?
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[Her voice is shaky, half with rage and half with... something else. She isn't her usual calm self by far.]
Yes. My sister.
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Deneve.
[She can't place where you are at all. Her mind doesn't seem to work correctly at the moment, but: ***]
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[She sounds much the same. Drained, empty. Not herself.]
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Was it ...your sister?
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[... she goes private. Her defenses are shot but she has the presence of mind for that at least.]
At home, she died for me. When we were little. Here, she wanted to turn the tables, it seems.
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[There's a growl, something more animal that human. And her energy spikes with it.]
I'm stomping that little bitch!
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[And in contrast, Deneve's voice is soft and weak with none of its usual harshness or command. More 'human' than usual.]
Don't.
[It's a plea, not an order.]
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[That voice, the pleading...definitely unsettling. Not something Helen knows how to deal with.]
What the hell. Is that brat who I think she is?
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[A jostling sound as the Forge is forcibly taken.]
That's right. And that makes me more important than you, Helen. So go away.
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