[ Way to put things into perspective, she supposes. Cellar's silence is as relaxed as a stone statue, staring off at the water to avoid showing Sully any emotion. Never mind that she laid it all out for him already. Crossed arms tighten around her stomach, then she shakes her head and starts stripping. ]
I've got enough hatred.
[ So let her focus it on the man whose life she's bringing back. Down to a swimsuit, ]
[He doesn't ask for anything in return, though he could. Maybe he will later - by leaving it vague, he's leaving it vague. Sullivan's eyes return to the water, and the call from down below. Everything in this area reeks of death. Not strongly, but just enough to stir his interest.]
[ It's easier if she's quiet for now long. She's got enough hatred and she's got enough emotions exposed out here. Cellar makes her way into the water, getting used to the temperature licking at her skin, swimming around the surface for a moment before she turns around to look at Sully, brows drawn with apprehension or the need to tell him something or - whatever. Cellar takes a deep breath and dives, swimming to the bottom of the lake. Her search begins, using her shadows to help. ]
[Sullivan remains a presence on land, though the deeper she goes and the longer she stays beneath the water it feels as if he's lingering there too. The more she pushes herself, the more he 'keeps her spotted', the more he feels like he's there somehow. He is the hint of death, the threat of it, the burn to the breath held in her lungs.
Like a shadow darker than any she's ever known, he lingers. Waiting to pluck her back should she need it.]
[ She does push herself too far, chest starting to hurt, throat sore when she comes up to compensate with deep breaths. The struggle becomes increasingly obvious, growing along with her frustration at not finding the stone yet. It's getting to the point where she needs a break and won't admit it. She's bound to make a stupid decision soon, underwater again, seeing a rock with a name at last. She doesn't confirm which it is; she swims toward it, tired and dizzy, about to be too weak to reach or to have time to come up one more time. Her vision blurs, then goes dark. ]
[Right as that darkness comes for her, there's a sound - somewhere in her head, the shell of her ear. It's inhuman, coarse and rough, so completely Sullivan despite sounding nothing like his normal tone. It doesn't speak in words within her comprehension but it says something before death wraps all around her. Licks at her skin with the temptation of taking her as his own before...
When she wakes she will be on the grass next to the water, still wet but not dripping so. There's a rock in her palm - her fingers delicately wrapped around it, sitting on her chest. Sullivan sits on a log a little farther back, shape shifting - fluctuating between known forms and something else, something ravenous and bitten back. When the form stabilizes it's feminine, teeth sunk into the flesh of her own hand, the webbing between thumb and pointer finger. Self-soothing by sucking the black blood away, up until the point Cellar seems conscious again.
[ The first thing she feels is the headache. Then, she makes a face like she swallowed something horrible and bitter, or like her mouth is on fire, rolling on her side to cough up water and gasp for air, clutching the stone tight. Her chest hurts too, turns out. As does her nose and inner ears. It's a miserable state, and yet she immediately knows it was almost so much worse.
Whatever stupid thought she had down there, whatever nightmare licked and nearly lapped her up into Death's stomach… she knows why she's out here now. And is so relieved that she was right to trust her. Cellar can barely focus her eyes when she looks at Sully. ]
[Sullivan still nurses from her hand as Cellar sputters back to life, gnashing at tissue with no real relief. She drops her hand away when she stands, moving closer to Cellar, standing over her as she lays on her side and gets reacquainted with being conscious and alive. It'd still be so easy to snuff out her low burning wick. Sullivan's demeanor remains... off, but contained.]
[ One palm presses down on dirt and grass; Cellar pushes herself up until she's sitting, thankful that she's exposed to the elements in a swimsuit during summer. The one thing Saber got right in this whole stupid ordeal. Looking up — way up — Cellar watches the other woman and grimaces at the light and how uncomfortable she feels everywhere. Both in body and mind. ]
Did you know that would happen?
[ It isn't accusatory. She wonders if that's why Sully changed: to fit a doomed girl's expectations of Death. ]
[So yes, in a way, Sullivan did at least expect it. But for one or a handful of reasons, including the fact she likes Cellar, opted to give her what protection she could. Which also, of course, included dragging her ass back out. She remains standing there, staring down:]
[ Sounds about right. She's still dealing with the lingering pain in her chest, all the way up to her throat and nose, all of which feel weirdly dilated. Swallowing hurts, breathing puts a strain on her, but she's gradually going back to normal. Hopefully. ]
[For a fleeting moment there, Saber was a person she was entangled with. Those threads remain present, albeit tangled. Her hand no longer bleeds but the marks of her teeth remain dug in, like mottled old wounds on a corpse.]
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no subject
I've got enough hatred.
[ So let her focus it on the man whose life she's bringing back. Down to a swimsuit, ]
Do the same as last time?
no subject
[He doesn't ask for anything in return, though he could. Maybe he will later - by leaving it vague, he's leaving it vague. Sullivan's eyes return to the water, and the call from down below. Everything in this area reeks of death. Not strongly, but just enough to stir his interest.]
I'll spot for you.
no subject
[ It's easier if she's quiet for now long. She's got enough hatred and she's got enough emotions exposed out here. Cellar makes her way into the water, getting used to the temperature licking at her skin, swimming around the surface for a moment before she turns around to look at Sully, brows drawn with apprehension or the need to tell him something or - whatever. Cellar takes a deep breath and dives, swimming to the bottom of the lake. Her search begins, using her shadows to help. ]
no subject
Like a shadow darker than any she's ever known, he lingers. Waiting to pluck her back should she need it.]
no subject
no subject
When she wakes she will be on the grass next to the water, still wet but not dripping so. There's a rock in her palm - her fingers delicately wrapped around it, sitting on her chest. Sullivan sits on a log a little farther back, shape shifting - fluctuating between known forms and something else, something ravenous and bitten back. When the form stabilizes it's feminine, teeth sunk into the flesh of her own hand, the webbing between thumb and pointer finger. Self-soothing by sucking the black blood away, up until the point Cellar seems conscious again.
Temptation was hard to fend off.]
You'll want to spit it out.
[That mouthful of water.]
no subject
Whatever stupid thought she had down there, whatever nightmare licked and nearly lapped her up into Death's stomach… she knows why she's out here now. And is so relieved that she was right to trust her. Cellar can barely focus her eyes when she looks at Sully. ]
Tha… thank you.
no subject
You were close.
[To the edge, the undoing, the unraveling.]
no subject
Did you know that would happen?
[ It isn't accusatory. She wonders if that's why Sully changed: to fit a doomed girl's expectations of Death. ]
no subject
[So yes, in a way, Sullivan did at least expect it. But for one or a handful of reasons, including the fact she likes Cellar, opted to give her what protection she could. Which also, of course, included dragging her ass back out. She remains standing there, staring down:]
You have work still to do. No rest for the weary.
🎀 soon
I know. Are you staying?
[ Or coming with me? ]
🎀ish
[For a fleeting moment there, Saber was a person she was entangled with. Those threads remain present, albeit tangled. Her hand no longer bleeds but the marks of her teeth remain dug in, like mottled old wounds on a corpse.]
After you.