Come on, you're the guest here. [ She's led the way to her bedroom, setting her mug on her dresser and pulling out the bag of laundry, then rummaging for a spare oversized shirt, which she tosses to Sal. The bedroom's a once-generic space that's been made more personal: a knitted throw blanket slung onto the bed, a stack of books piled on the desk beside a laptop, a phrenology skull on the mantle, a scattering of eclectic thrift shop finds. Anathema cares very much about making her surroundings nice, coordinated, even if it's temporary, like her cottage at Tadfield. Or here. ]
But if you really are set on being useful, then feel free to take a crack at the laundry — the machine's downstairs, next to the kitchen — and then just make yourself comfortable. And I'll be right back.
[ A wave of her hand towards the bed, with its stack of pillows and the throw, and then Anathema scoops up a towel and departs.
It's a mark of trust, just depositing Sal in her home and letting her have free rein of it — there's no end of drawers and books to poke through, a tarot spread sitting abandoned on the desk. But Anathema believes rather firmly in her gauge of other people; she's seen the other woman's aura, after all. And so she trusts her. ]
[Sal doesn't say anything as Anathema leaves the room, already reaching dutifully for the bag of laundry. She changes shirts with quick precision and throws hers in with the rest of the bag. The quiet wraps around her as she pads back downstairs, finding what she needs in the laundry room and works on starting the load up.
It's probably the first true peace she's found since the whole storm started.
When she's back in Anathema's bedroom, she does stand for a moment and take a look around. There's that feeling again, as if she shouldn't root around and break anything. The strange sacredness in another's personal living space. There's a candle on the table, so instead of keeping the light on, she waves a hand and a tiny flame begins to burn on the wick instead.
A faint sound of running water from the other room can be heard as she takes time in turning the bed down. Her gun holster is left on the floor, nearby but out of sight. And when she finally settles herself down under the covers, it's as Anathema guessed. There's room enough for two women without it becoming too uncomfortable.
She tries lying on her side, but with the bandages, ends up settling on her back. With one arm up, under her head, it leaves Anathema the lion's share of space. When the magic finally begins to kick in, and the world begins to sink away, a realization dawns on her. With every tiny gesture she's made since the beginning to now, Sal has made the decision to put her trust in this person.
More than that, she's trusting Anathema not to hurt her.]
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yourssss to wrap?
But if you really are set on being useful, then feel free to take a crack at the laundry — the machine's downstairs, next to the kitchen — and then just make yourself comfortable. And I'll be right back.
[ A wave of her hand towards the bed, with its stack of pillows and the throw, and then Anathema scoops up a towel and departs.
It's a mark of trust, just depositing Sal in her home and letting her have free rein of it — there's no end of drawers and books to poke through, a tarot spread sitting abandoned on the desk. But Anathema believes rather firmly in her gauge of other people; she's seen the other woman's aura, after all. And so she trusts her. ]
closed for snuggles.
It's probably the first true peace she's found since the whole storm started.
When she's back in Anathema's bedroom, she does stand for a moment and take a look around. There's that feeling again, as if she shouldn't root around and break anything. The strange sacredness in another's personal living space. There's a candle on the table, so instead of keeping the light on, she waves a hand and a tiny flame begins to burn on the wick instead.
A faint sound of running water from the other room can be heard as she takes time in turning the bed down. Her gun holster is left on the floor, nearby but out of sight. And when she finally settles herself down under the covers, it's as Anathema guessed. There's room enough for two women without it becoming too uncomfortable.
She tries lying on her side, but with the bandages, ends up settling on her back. With one arm up, under her head, it leaves Anathema the lion's share of space. When the magic finally begins to kick in, and the world begins to sink away, a realization dawns on her. With every tiny gesture she's made since the beginning to now, Sal has made the decision to put her trust in this person.
More than that, she's trusting Anathema not to hurt her.]