[ wanda is twitchy enough to shoot, but it's tempered by grief -- so much grief. she doesn't even realize she didn't turn any of the lights on in the apartment, small bathroom off the bedroom illuminated only by the phone in her lap and little floating orbs of red light.
she finally hears daisy as she slips into the room, trying to shake herself out of grief to call out, flicking a wrist to turn the bathroom light on as the red lights dissolve. ]
Daisy. [ it's a croak. ] In here.
[ wanda should move, but instead she stays draped in the bathtub, legs dangling over the side, empty bag of doritos on the floor in front of her next to the half empty bottle of red wine. ]
[ that explains the coldness of the sheets, at least. if the scene wasn't so sad — as so many scenes have felt these days, blue painting over everything in the loss of so many — she might be reassured by the stretch of skin dangled over the side of the tub.
daisy settles herself on the floor, the thin cotton fabric of her camisole serving as a barrier between bare back and the freezing porcelain of the tub; with a soft huff, she takes a swig from the bottle of red, half-empty and room temperature. better than nothing. god, she's tired of nothing. ]
How long have you been in here, [ not that she blames her. they're both just tired. emotionally, obviously; physically, too. daisy's spent the better part of eighteen hours on the ground, boots pounding into dirt scouring the city for survivors and those in need of help. ] Have you eaten anything?
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she finally hears daisy as she slips into the room, trying to shake herself out of grief to call out, flicking a wrist to turn the bathroom light on as the red lights dissolve. ]
Daisy. [ it's a croak. ] In here.
[ wanda should move, but instead she stays draped in the bathtub, legs dangling over the side, empty bag of doritos on the floor in front of her next to the half empty bottle of red wine. ]
no subject
daisy settles herself on the floor, the thin cotton fabric of her camisole serving as a barrier between bare back and the freezing porcelain of the tub; with a soft huff, she takes a swig from the bottle of red, half-empty and room temperature. better than nothing. god, she's tired of nothing. ]
How long have you been in here, [ not that she blames her. they're both just tired. emotionally, obviously; physically, too. daisy's spent the better part of eighteen hours on the ground, boots pounding into dirt scouring the city for survivors and those in need of help. ] Have you eaten anything?
[ besides the chips. ]