[The three rooms ahead (almost disappointingly) were laid out just as the Slayer had said; spare room, with a chair that she had propped the supplies and journal on, linen closet, though a little sparse - after some scrounging she does find a handkerchief -]
Yes, it's a closet!
[Before stepping over to the washroom. No hot water, but hadn't she had centuries of no running water? This was nothing. Not with the way signs were dangerously pointing toward something she might not want to hear.
No real answers. What did she want to hear?]
She wrings out the cloth and heads back toward the spare room, the door closing a little harder than necessary. Not quite a slam, but something more than a little click. Frustration.
It still doesn't take as long as she'd like. Five minutes, maybe, give or take. The wings were the hardest part - were those... holes in the shirt for them? They were such bizarre appendages. There may be small grunts of frustration overheard as she wrestles the shirt on.]
no subject
Yes, it's a closet!
[Before stepping over to the washroom. No hot water, but hadn't she had centuries of no running water? This was nothing. Not with the way signs were dangerously pointing toward something she might not want to hear.
No real answers. What did she want to hear?]
She wrings out the cloth and heads back toward the spare room, the door closing a little harder than necessary. Not quite a slam, but something more than a little click. Frustration.
It still doesn't take as long as she'd like. Five minutes, maybe, give or take. The wings were the hardest part - were those... holes in the shirt for them? They were such bizarre appendages. There may be small grunts of frustration overheard as she wrestles the shirt on.]