Mary Anne Bell

Mary Anne faces down her nemesis with weapon in hand, dressed for battle.

Her armor is paint-splattered jeans and a t-shirt, hair tied back under a bandana.

The weapon of choice? A paint roller loaded with what the hardware store called Eggshell White.

The nemesis? The third of four walls in the entryway.

She squares her shoulders and starts on the attack, humming to herself.

As a rule, Mary Anne doesn't sleep with her head under the pillow. That's useful weapon storage space and sleeping with your face near a knife is just silly.

But when you're trying to avoid that damn ray of light that keeps sneaking in through the blinds and stabbing you in the eye, and you're not inclined to get out of bed and draw the curtains, under the pillow is the best option. The knife has been knocked to the floor in the course of this exercise, and she is muttering insulting things about the sun under her breath.

Any possible discomfort or annoyance this may be causing her bedmate has not been taken into consideration.

Mary Anne doesn't move when she sleeps--no tossing and turning, no kicking or flailing of arms. She tends to wake up in exactly the same position she drifted off in, at least when she's sleeping alone. Some training dies hard.

And some not so. The need to wake up ready to fight has eased in her somewhat; she's harder to wake and the process of waking is slower. It hasn't been a problem yet, so now she sleeps, curled on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin.

Much as she likes the bar, Mary Anne figured it was time to do a little exploring in her new home. She spent most of the afternoon walking the beach before returning to the castle. After taking a wandering route through a library, a ballroom and a weapons cache, she's back in her room, standing out on the balcony and enjoying the sea air.

[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."

Mary Anne stands outside the stable, leaning against the doorframe. Now that she's cast-free, it's time to take up that offer of a riding lesson. She hums to herself, keeping an eye out for Delia.