#// i've been waiting for a six to approach the madame.... shes rude though she might bite

[lurxof--thxmaw]

❝ [ receiver finds sender covered in blood ] ❞ － @yxllowcoat

During the long time she spent on the Maw, the Lady had spent an extensive amount of time witnessing some of the most outlandish things one could possibly think of. She's seen worse in the outside world, admittedly, even if her memories of it are vague: what happens on the Maw is but a fragment of the depravity staining the mainland. It was like a mist, laying softly on humanity's eyes － but not her own. Never her own.

However, one of the things that seemed to stick consistently across all civilization both on and off the Maw is violence. Unbridled, unexplainable violence. It seems that a stable of the human nature was to gravitate towards it almost subconsciously. The Lady's hands are not clean themselves, that she has to recognise; one has to do what they must to survive.

The way she saw it was, by her own admission, rather simple: you can either run from violence, or engage in it. And one can only keep running for so long before getting caught.

She presumes this is what must have happened to... her.

The child standing at the end of the corridor is small and frail, much like many others. The madame can hear her breaths, no matter how soft they are. And her presence － her soul, flickers with a rather annoying insistence to it. It was hard to ignore once it was made known, really. The woman's eyes trail over her shining raincoat, stained by the bad odor of blood. Its shades mix with the yellow fabric in a rather fascinating way.

The Madame doesn't speak yet. She limits herself to studying the little intruder.

PROMPTS.