𝐴𝑎𝑙𝑦𝑖𝑎ℎ 𝐹𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑟

'𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑡𝘩𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩𝑡, 𝑤𝘩𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡. . .𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒' 𝑨𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒐. 𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕. 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍. 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒌𝒆. 𝑼𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒃𝒊𝒂𝒏. Mature themes. OC.

-- thing was terrified

-- sanctum, akin to a frightened animal. So Mel's approach definitely worked, calming the distressed blonde down. "It really hurts. I fell and hurt my knees, are they broken? I think they're broken." They weren't. But her dramatics were surely justified, the poor--

Quivering, she cowered slightly, hiding ger injuries, tears welling in her eyes as the adrenaline wore off, the pain setting in. "These people...found me. They hurt me. . . So I ran away. I don't want to go back, please." Watery eyes gazed up, seeking protection and --

-- were bruised, bloodied and early in need of some minor medical attention, however the most important injury would likely be the glass and debris in her left arm.

-- decision to send a fellow woman because as the doctor approached, Ash hesitated, freezing, settling back onto the ground instead of trying to climb up the wall behind her. "You don't have a gun like the others, so you?" Her shirt was soaked with blood and her knees--

Of course she was trying to run away. She didn't know where she was or who these people were. Already, she'd ran away from the man that had brought her to the Wasteland, biting him and making a break for it. And then escaped the two others sent after her. Maybe it was a smart --

{ starter for @TheRxQveen.}

4'10. Ditzy airhead. Ray of sunshine. A bit of a most pup that gets easily attached. Trusts far too easily. Malleable. Innocent. Drug addict.

God, does she love it when people talk down to her. Keep look at her so angrily when you tell her she's stupid.

. . .who is she?

Flinching, she jumped back, looking up at the woman fearfully, swallowing thickly and hugging the money to her chest... So this wasn't easy? "I'm. . . I'm sorry. I didn't...I'm sorry."

Wide eyes gaze up, lips parted as she focused on listening intently before giving a little nod. "What does that last word mean?" She begins the wrapping, being very careful and exact.

Scurrying forward, a happy smile on her little face, only too excited and pleaser she was getting to help the pretty older lady. "I think so. . . But if you tell me what to do, I'll do it super good, I promise.'

She's just. . . Curious is all. . . Is that bad? Can she help wrap up her hands? She loves playing with bandages

. . . Oh. Who is she going to hurt?

Oh. . . Why? Did they do bad things?

Did she hurt herself?