[ she doesn't flinch. doesn't let herself shrink and wither as he lifts the handkerchief to apply it to her cheek. it calls back to another time when he'd done similarly for her - but then his touch had been gentle, almost soothing, his application of the water on her skin almost something of a baptism. she'd closed her eyes under it the first time; now she keeps them open, waiting until he drops his hand away from her face.
she won't be able to do this in her dress. that's the first thought that crosses her mind - trying to picture doing it in what she's wearing and heels. she considers that for a beat and then nods quietly, turning on her heel. her hands reach behind her back to find the zipper on her dress and lower it slowly as she walks - again, calling back to another time when he'd done it for her, but then she hadn't had a body to concern herself with the last time, long before she even had to wonder if anthony dimmond would be a problem.
what would you have me do, bedelia?
she's in a robe, in bare feet by the time she returns with what's required, gingerly stepping around the path of blood leading to the exit - but she stays out of his way, beginning at the spot of origin in order to start cleaning. in her mind, that will be the hardest to get up first, the place where the blood has started to dry and cake against the floor. her hair is beginning to spring free from its set curls, falling in front of her face as she kneels to begin. ]
no subject
she won't be able to do this in her dress. that's the first thought that crosses her mind - trying to picture doing it in what she's wearing and heels. she considers that for a beat and then nods quietly, turning on her heel. her hands reach behind her back to find the zipper on her dress and lower it slowly as she walks - again, calling back to another time when he'd done it for her, but then she hadn't had a body to concern herself with the last time, long before she even had to wonder if anthony dimmond would be a problem.
what would you have me do, bedelia?
she's in a robe, in bare feet by the time she returns with what's required, gingerly stepping around the path of blood leading to the exit - but she stays out of his way, beginning at the spot of origin in order to start cleaning. in her mind, that will be the hardest to get up first, the place where the blood has started to dry and cake against the floor. her hair is beginning to spring free from its set curls, falling in front of her face as she kneels to begin. ]