12-06-2009, 05:18 AM
By the time Sage was finished, and closed the shower’s tap, the bathroom had become veiled in a thick layer of steam. Damon’s fault for not including a fan. The hybrid stepped out of the stall and snagged a couple of towels from the cabinet next to the shower, and set about drying herself off with one, while wrapping her absurdly long hair up with the other. Locks of blue still spilled out from around the towel, but at least her hair wasn’t dragging along the floor.
Convinced she was still alone, Sage slipped on a pair of panties sure to have given Belle a heart attack, and over that simply wrapped herself in a towel. Her other clothes, after all, were totally wrecked. They weren’t doing a whole lot better to cover her than the towel was.
She toweled off her hair as furiously as she could. It was still wet when she was done, but dry enough - sort of - to do back up into her pigtails. She threw the soiled hair towel on top of her ruined clothes.
Sage just hoped she could find something else to wear in one of the supply closets. She hoped Dukes wasn’t a complete jerk, and that there was something to put on. He had to have figured one set wouldn’t last through the whole competition. Or, she thought with a frown, he intended for the women’s clothes to eventually disintegrate. Maybe the men’s, too. Who knew what the man was into. The man running Dante’s Abyss. Who knew?
The blue haired girl stepped out of the bathroom and straight into the adjacent supply room, totally unaware of the three people congregating in the room down the short corridor. Somehow, they didn’t notice her, either, and Sage continued on in ignorance, rifling through drawers and then came across a row of closets. The first was full of men’s clothing. The second, jackets and tougher outerwear. Boots and stuff. The third - Sage’s eyes lit up just a touch. No more dirty clothes.
She pulled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans, and then donned a grey turtleneck. She preferred her old outfit better, but it was covered with grime, sweat, and blood, plus it had been burned and cut and torn. Not to mention, Sage liked the fuzziness of the sweater.
Grabbing a pair of chestnut ugg boots from the outerwear closet, Sage slipped them on and ventured back to the main room of the bunker, and nearly jumped at the sight of Alexander before her. He had halfway disappeared into the fridge, but he’d see her eventually.
A silver haired woman was lying on one of the beds nearby, and seemed content to while away her time lost in thought. Sage could understand that; she’d given a lot of time to contemplation. It hadn’t done her any good, but she could still understand.
More importantly than that, though, Sophia was here. Alive!
Immediately, the hybrid took a spot at the table, and nudged her blond friend, who had buried her head in her arms. Sophia jerked a little, and then looked up at Sage. The former priestess offered a faint smile of recognition, but it was devoid of her usual enthusiasm. Not that Sage minded. “Hey.”
“Hi,” the blue haired girl returned. “I, um, I’m glad you’ve gotten this far, so far. I mean, this far... uh-”
“You said the same thing the last time we talked,” Sophia replied with a hint of a giggle. “Were you the one in the shower?”
Sage nodded.
“Oh, good. Is it hot?”
Sage nodded again.
“Maybe I should take one, then,” she stretched. “Maybe later.”
“You!!” a shout from behind Sophia caused the girls at the table to jump in their seats. Trafford glared through the priestess and straight into the doctor from where he stood. He was in rough shape, to say the least. “What the hell was that shit in the bunker about?!”
The older substance abuser just stared at Alexander, wide-eyed, and consumed with fright. Unfortunately, the truth was, Sage had no reason to give. She felt the need to flee. But that wasn’t really a good enough explanation for throwing a thousand razor-sharp pinpricks at someone.
An awkward silence dragged on for a long time, until Sophia finally interrupted it with a sigh. “What happened, Sage?” she seemed distant. Disinterested.
“I...” the hybrid looked away, trembling once again. “...Attacked him,” she finished.
“For nothing!” Alexander retorted. He was clearly angry, but he restrained himself, pacing a few steps away from Sage instead of cursing her out.
“H-He’s right,” the girl acknowledged. “I... panicked. He aimed his g-gun at me and I just didn’t-” the girl stopped, and started tracing the grain on the table with her eyes.. “...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h-have...”
“Yeah, yeah... whatever,” Alex waved her off. “I’m going for a smoke.”
The fiery haired man pushed toward the door, and then hesitated. Anything he could have smoked was nothing but ash in the ruined arena. His head dropped. “...Fuck,” he spun on his heel and disappeared further into the bunker.
“May I sit?” it was the silver haired lady. She was gesturing to the chair next to Sage’s. The girl hesitated a moment, but then nodded. They couldn’t afford to be enemies outside of the fights, Sage decided. She just hoped everyone else felt the same way.
Convinced she was still alone, Sage slipped on a pair of panties sure to have given Belle a heart attack, and over that simply wrapped herself in a towel. Her other clothes, after all, were totally wrecked. They weren’t doing a whole lot better to cover her than the towel was.
She toweled off her hair as furiously as she could. It was still wet when she was done, but dry enough - sort of - to do back up into her pigtails. She threw the soiled hair towel on top of her ruined clothes.
Sage just hoped she could find something else to wear in one of the supply closets. She hoped Dukes wasn’t a complete jerk, and that there was something to put on. He had to have figured one set wouldn’t last through the whole competition. Or, she thought with a frown, he intended for the women’s clothes to eventually disintegrate. Maybe the men’s, too. Who knew what the man was into. The man running Dante’s Abyss. Who knew?
The blue haired girl stepped out of the bathroom and straight into the adjacent supply room, totally unaware of the three people congregating in the room down the short corridor. Somehow, they didn’t notice her, either, and Sage continued on in ignorance, rifling through drawers and then came across a row of closets. The first was full of men’s clothing. The second, jackets and tougher outerwear. Boots and stuff. The third - Sage’s eyes lit up just a touch. No more dirty clothes.
She pulled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans, and then donned a grey turtleneck. She preferred her old outfit better, but it was covered with grime, sweat, and blood, plus it had been burned and cut and torn. Not to mention, Sage liked the fuzziness of the sweater.
Grabbing a pair of chestnut ugg boots from the outerwear closet, Sage slipped them on and ventured back to the main room of the bunker, and nearly jumped at the sight of Alexander before her. He had halfway disappeared into the fridge, but he’d see her eventually.
A silver haired woman was lying on one of the beds nearby, and seemed content to while away her time lost in thought. Sage could understand that; she’d given a lot of time to contemplation. It hadn’t done her any good, but she could still understand.
More importantly than that, though, Sophia was here. Alive!
Immediately, the hybrid took a spot at the table, and nudged her blond friend, who had buried her head in her arms. Sophia jerked a little, and then looked up at Sage. The former priestess offered a faint smile of recognition, but it was devoid of her usual enthusiasm. Not that Sage minded. “Hey.”
“Hi,” the blue haired girl returned. “I, um, I’m glad you’ve gotten this far, so far. I mean, this far... uh-”
“You said the same thing the last time we talked,” Sophia replied with a hint of a giggle. “Were you the one in the shower?”
Sage nodded.
“Oh, good. Is it hot?”
Sage nodded again.
“Maybe I should take one, then,” she stretched. “Maybe later.”
“You!!” a shout from behind Sophia caused the girls at the table to jump in their seats. Trafford glared through the priestess and straight into the doctor from where he stood. He was in rough shape, to say the least. “What the hell was that shit in the bunker about?!”
The older substance abuser just stared at Alexander, wide-eyed, and consumed with fright. Unfortunately, the truth was, Sage had no reason to give. She felt the need to flee. But that wasn’t really a good enough explanation for throwing a thousand razor-sharp pinpricks at someone.
An awkward silence dragged on for a long time, until Sophia finally interrupted it with a sigh. “What happened, Sage?” she seemed distant. Disinterested.
“I...” the hybrid looked away, trembling once again. “...Attacked him,” she finished.
“For nothing!” Alexander retorted. He was clearly angry, but he restrained himself, pacing a few steps away from Sage instead of cursing her out.
“H-He’s right,” the girl acknowledged. “I... panicked. He aimed his g-gun at me and I just didn’t-” the girl stopped, and started tracing the grain on the table with her eyes.. “...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h-have...”
“Yeah, yeah... whatever,” Alex waved her off. “I’m going for a smoke.”
The fiery haired man pushed toward the door, and then hesitated. Anything he could have smoked was nothing but ash in the ruined arena. His head dropped. “...Fuck,” he spun on his heel and disappeared further into the bunker.
“May I sit?” it was the silver haired lady. She was gesturing to the chair next to Sage’s. The girl hesitated a moment, but then nodded. They couldn’t afford to be enemies outside of the fights, Sage decided. She just hoped everyone else felt the same way.
![[Image: Sage.jpg]](http://rebecca.florizone.com/sig/miscsig/Sage.jpg)