Post by Anna on Apr 30, 2021 0:27:41 GMT -6
Anna sat straight up, watching Ash's hand pass over the haft of a small hatchet Anna used for throwing. The wood itself looked riveted, and certainly not sealed. She watched as he turned it over in his hands, looking at the small blade and the way it sat on the stick.
"[It keeps hurting my hand,]" she explained in Russian, expecting her almost-friend to rib her about the quality of the wood. "[little sticks, they keep sticking into my hand.]"
Anna had walked out of her realm for quite a bit, aiming for a place she often found Ash in. She came to him, because unlike the others, Ash could understand her and what she was saying. That sort of companionship was scarce, and it was one that Anna had no idea she needed until she had it. Ash always made jokes, and often said things that Anna had no idea what they meant. He seemed like the only survivor that would talk to her--he always had some sort of disregard for his own life when Anna saw him in trials (a detail only remembered through a haze). It was nice to have an acquaintance that she knew did not fear her, even when she posed a direct threat.
Anna craved that company, and to have a survivor see her as more than a monster.
She looked out and around at their setting, her eyes drifting about as she assessed for the danger that simply was not there. Her eyes never felt comfortable connecting with another's gaze, and Anna preferred to keep herself aware of the surroundings when she herself felt vulnerable. Her mask was on her face, of course, and her lace veil drifted down her back, the thready cloth soft and flexible. The vulnerability itself was expressing that she was being injured, and that she let the man have her weapons without feeling the need to hold one to arm herself. Her face stayed just within peripheral sight of her weapon; if Ash needed to point to something, she could quickly look.
"[It keeps hurting my hand,]" she explained in Russian, expecting her almost-friend to rib her about the quality of the wood. "[little sticks, they keep sticking into my hand.]"
Anna had walked out of her realm for quite a bit, aiming for a place she often found Ash in. She came to him, because unlike the others, Ash could understand her and what she was saying. That sort of companionship was scarce, and it was one that Anna had no idea she needed until she had it. Ash always made jokes, and often said things that Anna had no idea what they meant. He seemed like the only survivor that would talk to her--he always had some sort of disregard for his own life when Anna saw him in trials (a detail only remembered through a haze). It was nice to have an acquaintance that she knew did not fear her, even when she posed a direct threat.
Anna craved that company, and to have a survivor see her as more than a monster.
She looked out and around at their setting, her eyes drifting about as she assessed for the danger that simply was not there. Her eyes never felt comfortable connecting with another's gaze, and Anna preferred to keep herself aware of the surroundings when she herself felt vulnerable. Her mask was on her face, of course, and her lace veil drifted down her back, the thready cloth soft and flexible. The vulnerability itself was expressing that she was being injured, and that she let the man have her weapons without feeling the need to hold one to arm herself. Her face stayed just within peripheral sight of her weapon; if Ash needed to point to something, she could quickly look.
