(no subject)

[prydeful]

They enter.

That simple, no dramatics, no fanfare, just tired faces. Faith's body is covered in streaks of brown-red, the result of trying to clean off blood without time or water to do it properly, and the rest don't look much better. Dirt, sweat, blood--in some cases their own, in some others', because you can get things cleaned up, bandaged, but the long showers that get it clean in the end, that takes time. There's the scent of violence, smoke, gunpowder, ash, tears, anger, all around them, and they are tired, and dirty, but they're alive, and not hurting too badly.

They enter: Ace, Faith, Kitty, Susannah, Zoe, and the door closes behind them.

Comments

[balletrat]

Yeah, well, the Romans never had any fashion sense anyways.

*Meg glances involuntarily at the rest of the group, and then back at Kitty.*

Is this -

I'm guessing there's a - a second wave returning soon?

[prydeful]

"I'd guess you're right. It's--it's never over, but there are immediate things that need done, and all."

[balletrat]

But everyone's -

going to be okay?

And you did what you had to do?

[prydeful]

"I think so."

For a given value of okay, anyway.

"Got the job done."

[balletrat]

*Meg nods.*

- good.

*She smiles, a little.* I'm horrible with the legal stuff; I'd have mangled your will, anyways.

[prydeful]

"Oh, no you wouldn't have. It was just delivering letters. Well, that, and I left Lockheed to you."

[balletrat]

*Meg is oddly touched by this.*

- aw, Kitty -

- that's just because he hit on me that one time, isn't it.

[prydeful]

"Meg! I'm hurt that you'd say such a thing."

[balletrat]

. . . which is not a 'no', *Meg points out, and then smiles, a little.*

- I'm still honored, though.

[prydeful]

"Well, he doesn't like Edmund, so..." She smiles a little. "You should be."

[balletrat]

He's probably jealous, *Meg says, wisely.*

[prydeful]

"In his own way, I think he is."