[Did she pass out? Did she die? The salty, ocean air is the first thing that she notices when her eyes flutter open, and she immediately knows that she isn't where she's meant to be. She coughs violently, tasting sand in her mouth, and the pain that suddenly hits her makes her gasp in agony. It isn't just the scratches and scrapes on her skin - it's everything. It's her leg, which may be broken, and her back after being thrown from a balcony. It was a small miracle that she was alive at all. The fact that she was able to move at all was nothing short of impressive, but Edith had been determined to survive. An andrenaline rush had taken her over, aiding her.
She remembers Thomas. She remembers Lucille, brandishing a weapon while running after her in the fog. The woman's howls and screams of rage will be difficult to forget.]
Where am I? [Her voice is cracked. She grabs at a fallen branch - it makes for a perfect walking cane, and she uses it for support as she tries to pick herself up. To say she's struggling would be an understatement. Long, golden hair clings to her face, soaked with water and tinged with blood. Her nightgown is also coated with blood.]
Alan?! [She calls -- her voice is louder now. There's fear in her voice, but there's also determination.]
Alan, are you there? [Please let him be there.]
Scenario Two
[The townsfolk, so far, have been nothing but kind and sweet. She's looking much better than she did on the beach -- her leg is bandaged up, and someone was kind enough to give her a cane to walk with. But their kindness makes her uncomfortable -- she's uncomfortable taking food and drinks from strangers, and will only do so if they eat it too. They're too friendly, she thinks. Something feels terribly wrong. She doesn't know what it is, yet, but the unease is there. It turns her stomach upside down.
She's outside, and a group of locals are surrounding her. One of them gives her some fruit, which she accepts. But when someone offers her tea, her chest tightens and she pushes it away immediately, her thoughts returning to Allerdale Hall. Lucille. Thomas. The cup clatters on the saucer, but the liquid doesn't spill out. Thankfully.]
I'm... I apologise. [She looks at the local; the elderly woman continues to smile, seemingly unphased.]
I don't drink tea. I can't. But your hospitality is appreciated.
Edith Cushing | Crimson Peak
[Did she pass out? Did she die? The salty, ocean air is the first thing that she notices when her eyes flutter open, and she immediately knows that she isn't where she's meant to be. She coughs violently, tasting sand in her mouth, and the pain that suddenly hits her makes her gasp in agony. It isn't just the scratches and scrapes on her skin - it's everything. It's her leg, which may be broken, and her back after being thrown from a balcony. It was a small miracle that she was alive at all. The fact that she was able to move at all was nothing short of impressive, but Edith had been determined to survive. An andrenaline rush had taken her over, aiding her.
She remembers Thomas. She remembers Lucille, brandishing a weapon while running after her in the fog. The woman's howls and screams of rage will be difficult to forget.]
Where am I? [Her voice is cracked. She grabs at a fallen branch - it makes for a perfect walking cane, and she uses it for support as she tries to pick herself up. To say she's struggling would be an understatement. Long, golden hair clings to her face, soaked with water and tinged with blood. Her nightgown is also coated with blood.]
Alan?! [She calls -- her voice is louder now. There's fear in her voice, but there's also determination.]
Alan, are you there? [Please let him be there.]
Scenario Two
[The townsfolk, so far, have been nothing but kind and sweet. She's looking much better than she did on the beach -- her leg is bandaged up, and someone was kind enough to give her a cane to walk with. But their kindness makes her uncomfortable -- she's uncomfortable taking food and drinks from strangers, and will only do so if they eat it too. They're too friendly, she thinks. Something feels terribly wrong. She doesn't know what it is, yet, but the unease is there. It turns her stomach upside down.
She's outside, and a group of locals are surrounding her. One of them gives her some fruit, which she accepts. But when someone offers her tea, her chest tightens and she pushes it away immediately, her thoughts returning to Allerdale Hall. Lucille. Thomas. The cup clatters on the saucer, but the liquid doesn't spill out. Thankfully.]
I'm... I apologise. [She looks at the local; the elderly woman continues to smile, seemingly unphased.]
I don't drink tea. I can't. But your hospitality is appreciated.