Waste of time or not, the huddled girl - unnervingly all white, from her hair to her skin to her clothes, like a living, breathing doll or a well-made-up corpse - in the corner, still shivery as if from the cold, doesn't seem to be interested in participating. She doesn't seem to be interested in anything at all - well, wait, that's not true. It's just that she doesn't seem to be paying attention with her eyes, closed as they are. They don't seem sewn shut or anything, they just ... aren't open. Like she's someone who sleepwalks through life. Or, in this case, sleep-sits.
She makes no move to join the rest of the group in any way. Every so often, she deliberately lifts her head to look out of the mouth of the cave and her face scrunches up in a rictus of violent disgust, before she sticks her tongue out at the inclement weather and goes right back to letting her abnormally long, meticulously braided white hair fall around her shoulders from underneath the pulled-up hood of her white cloak, scooting her white boots back under its long hem.
Boy, she seems friendly as hell.
4:
As night falls and the storm abates, her head once again comes deliberately, sharply up. She stands with what might be the agonizing slowness of someone who's forgotten, yet again, that sitting for long stretches of time makes the joints in her body dislike it when she stands ... except she does it much faster than human speed, and quietly, like she's just ... not about that "making noises" life.
There's almost what sounds like a word someone might actually say, for a moment - like she mumbles "Finally." - and her hood flutters back long enough for it to be obvious her eyes are still seemingly closed. And then there's a small pip of displaced air filling a sudden hole that wasn't there a moment ago, and she's just gone.
Some minutes pass. And then she's right back where she was a moment ago as if she never left. There's a mumbled noise, like someone very faintly muttering "... okay," and then she sighs. Her shoulders sag, and she leans against the wall, either overwhelmed, resigned, or disappointed ... or perhaps all three at once.
no subject
Waste of time or not, the huddled girl - unnervingly all white, from her hair to her skin to her clothes, like a living, breathing doll or a well-made-up corpse - in the corner, still shivery as if from the cold, doesn't seem to be interested in participating. She doesn't seem to be interested in anything at all - well, wait, that's not true. It's just that she doesn't seem to be paying attention with her eyes, closed as they are. They don't seem sewn shut or anything, they just ... aren't open. Like she's someone who sleepwalks through life. Or, in this case, sleep-sits.
She makes no move to join the rest of the group in any way. Every so often, she deliberately lifts her head to look out of the mouth of the cave and her face scrunches up in a rictus of violent disgust, before she sticks her tongue out at the inclement weather and goes right back to letting her abnormally long, meticulously braided white hair fall around her shoulders from underneath the pulled-up hood of her white cloak, scooting her white boots back under its long hem.
Boy, she seems friendly as hell.
4:
As night falls and the storm abates, her head once again comes deliberately, sharply up. She stands with what might be the agonizing slowness of someone who's forgotten, yet again, that sitting for long stretches of time makes the joints in her body dislike it when she stands ... except she does it much faster than human speed, and quietly, like she's just ... not about that "making noises" life.
There's almost what sounds like a word someone might actually say, for a moment - like she mumbles "Finally." - and her hood flutters back long enough for it to be obvious her eyes are still seemingly closed. And then there's a small pip of displaced air filling a sudden hole that wasn't there a moment ago, and she's just gone.
Some minutes pass. And then she's right back where she was a moment ago as if she never left. There's a mumbled noise, like someone very faintly muttering "... okay," and then she sighs. Her shoulders sag, and she leans against the wall, either overwhelmed, resigned, or disappointed ... or perhaps all three at once.