song_tra_bong: (Default)
As soon as they get home, Mary Anne heads into the kitchen. Dish soap gets out blood better. She's got lather up to her elbows before she says anything to Ruin.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?"
song_tra_bong: (hands)
She unlocks the door to her room and slips inside, pushing the door gently shut with her foot.

Ruin is asleep in her (their) bed. She sits down on the edge next to him and watches him sleep, hands (shaking) resting on her lap.
song_tra_bong: (laying lying lie-ing)
[ooc: from here]

After much persistant scrubbing (and a little getting sidetracked), they managed to clean each other up and collapse into bed. Mary Anne's been asleep for a few hours when her eyes snap open. She's still tired, but that's shoved aside as she lies in silence, thinking.

She knows what she wants. And if something else like the clock happens before she's willing to admit it, she may lose more than just her chance. She won't let that happen. She's made up her mind and he needs to know.

She puts one hand to Ruin's uninjured shoulder, shaking lightly. "Wake up."
song_tra_bong: (bound and broken)
Room M16 is oddly quiet.

Just a faint click

click

click
coming from the bathroom.

From the shower stall. It was the smallest place she could find with a door that shut all the way.

She's sitting on the floor of the shower, knees tucked to her chest and pistol in hand, flicking the saftey on and off. She's got no plans to be dramatic and blow her brains all over the wall in desperation--the weight of the gun is just...comforting.

She's not looking for visitors tonight, though had she been thinking more clearly she would have remembered to lock her door.
song_tra_bong: (sometimes you just don't come through)
After visiting Gorlim in the infirmary, she made her way outside, wandering slowly towards the lake. She's still sore from her fight with Martin, but the walking keeps things from tensing up. Besides, she could use the space to breathe.

It's been a hell of a last few days.
song_tra_bong: (his)
[ooc: just after this this]


Somehow, she makes it up to her room without being seen. She can only hope her luck continues to hold on that front.

She goes into the bathroom and strips, dumping the clothes in the sink. Another shirt ruined; the pants are again mostly dirty, with a few bloodstains--easy enough to clean, dish soap and some warm water.

She turns the shower on warm, adjusting the nozzle until she gets a harsh stream of water. She has to clear the impacted dirt somehow. She's not asking for help.

The wound burns like hell and she grits her teeth against it. She scrubs at what of it she can reach, then turns her attention to her shoulder wound. Periodically, she steps out of the shower stall to check her back in the mirror, twisting her head over her shoulder to look. Then she gets back in, scrubbing ineffectually at dirt she cannot reach. This process repeats several times.

Eventually, the wound is clean--though now oozing blood somewhat from the attention and the water pressure. She steps out, toweling her hair dry, then slings the towel around her waist in a makeshift skirt before going to have a seat on her bed.

She props her elbows on her knees, then clutches her head in her hands.

What are you playing at? You go to him again and he might kill you, deals be damned.

I don't think he would. He...he likes me.

And that makes it better how? You know what Gorlim gave up for you--is giving up for you--so that he wouldn't touch you and now you go and--


"SHUT UP!"

She springs to her feet, glaring around the room, expression falling when she realizes what she's done.

She knows she isn't right mentally, and she's secretly a little proud of it, but to lose so much time like before, to forget--

"'M not gonna lose it again. I'm not."

The room says nothing back to her denial. She goes back into the bathroom and starts looking for her largest roll of bandages.
song_tra_bong: (bound and broken)
[ooc: millitimed to just after this turn of events]

ice water )

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Mary Anne Bell

February 2010

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