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[ Well. It went better than we thought, didn't it? There was no messy blood (except from her wounds) or gore to concern themselves with. Diva's body, as respectfully as Elizabeth treated her, was cleaned up and put to rest. The liquid nitrogen did its job and well - we're handwaving the rest!! Yuck!! Elizabeth was silent, focused as much as Bigby. The two strangers really didn't have a lot of conversation during this except for what was needed.
She could read a mood and the tension? Was at an all time high. Elizabeth and Bigby were both in the bathroom now a bit before the mandated curfew. Elizabeth's sleeves rolled up and her hands deeply scrubbing at her skin, trying to get the smell of blood off her skin. Whatever Bigby was saying to her, it goes over her head. She's off in her own world, looking at her own reflection in the mirror. The feeling of her nails and digits leaving red streaks of pressure onto her skin don't faze her as just... stares in front of her. The echo around her hollowed, like the whale's calls in Market Street from outside of the thick glass.
The woman took this a bit harder than she thought, feeling her chest tighten as she sees less of the girl she was and more of a woman she's scared to become. This wasn't the first time she washed away blood, but there's no... ceremonious haircut here. There's no moment of taking her destiny into her own hands when she has no power - nothing like she had hoped to achieve back in Rapture. Freedom was a long gone concept and the more she thinks about it, she can't.. she can't remember. It hurts to remember and there's parts of her that can't piece together what's missing and what was never there. ]
She could read a mood and the tension? Was at an all time high. Elizabeth and Bigby were both in the bathroom now a bit before the mandated curfew. Elizabeth's sleeves rolled up and her hands deeply scrubbing at her skin, trying to get the smell of blood off her skin. Whatever Bigby was saying to her, it goes over her head. She's off in her own world, looking at her own reflection in the mirror. The feeling of her nails and digits leaving red streaks of pressure onto her skin don't faze her as just... stares in front of her. The echo around her hollowed, like the whale's calls in Market Street from outside of the thick glass.
The woman took this a bit harder than she thought, feeling her chest tighten as she sees less of the girl she was and more of a woman she's scared to become. This wasn't the first time she washed away blood, but there's no... ceremonious haircut here. There's no moment of taking her destiny into her own hands when she has no power - nothing like she had hoped to achieve back in Rapture. Freedom was a long gone concept and the more she thinks about it, she can't.. she can't remember. It hurts to remember and there's parts of her that can't piece together what's missing and what was never there. ]
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