our coats both smell of smoke, whisky, and wine [noncombatant area]
Nill understands that what they're doing is important. They were kept as prisoners, had part of their free will sapped away. It reminds her so much of what had happened to her in her own world--keep them complacent, make sure they don't fight back. It makes her feel sick to her stomach, and she knows that even after the self-defense training she'd received at the Institute, she wouldn't be much help.
So instead, Nill hangs back, doing what she thinks she does best.
The meals she prepares aren't large, but they're as filling as they can be and not lacking in flavor. The raiding parties had managed to round up a few medical supplies, so she busies herself patching up wounds of all shapes and sizes. She might not be great at sewing, but she's good enough to make a solid set of stitches. The kinfe and cotton bandages she'd had upon arrival on the Moira and the survival kit she'd found all those months ago come in handy for that. Even though Heine's wounds had always healed much faster than anyone else's, she'd always done her best to wrap his wounds and stem the bleeding when she could. Needless to say, the sight of blood and gore doesn't bother her as much as one might think.
When she isn't working herself to exhaustion bustling around the noncombatant area, Nill sits by the campfire, arms wrapped around her legs and chin on her knees, wings flitting idly behind her. She hopes, against all the reality in front of her, that things will come to a peaceful end and she can go back to school soon.
as we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night [wildcard]
[hit me up on plurk @watchet if you want to do anything specific!]
nill | DOGS: BULLETS & CARNAGE | ota
Nill understands that what they're doing is important. They were kept as prisoners, had part of their free will sapped away. It reminds her so much of what had happened to her in her own world--keep them complacent, make sure they don't fight back. It makes her feel sick to her stomach, and she knows that even after the self-defense training she'd received at the Institute, she wouldn't be much help.
So instead, Nill hangs back, doing what she thinks she does best.
The meals she prepares aren't large, but they're as filling as they can be and not lacking in flavor. The raiding parties had managed to round up a few medical supplies, so she busies herself patching up wounds of all shapes and sizes. She might not be great at sewing, but she's good enough to make a solid set of stitches. The kinfe and cotton bandages she'd had upon arrival on the Moira and the survival kit she'd found all those months ago come in handy for that. Even though Heine's wounds had always healed much faster than anyone else's, she'd always done her best to wrap his wounds and stem the bleeding when she could. Needless to say, the sight of blood and gore doesn't bother her as much as one might think.
When she isn't working herself to exhaustion bustling around the noncombatant area, Nill sits by the campfire, arms wrapped around her legs and chin on her knees, wings flitting idly behind her. She hopes, against all the reality in front of her, that things will come to a peaceful end and she can go back to school soon.
as we fill up our lungs with the cold air of the night [wildcard]
[hit me up on plurk @