Post by Avu on Dec 27, 2011 17:40:06 GMT -5
Oh, he actually knew her, that was nice. Sena blinked at Buram owlishly for his enthusiasm, but he seemed to pick up rapidly on the fact that she actually didn’t get people to carry her around just because. Max had the explanation pretty much down; instead of trying to supplement the story with extraneous details Sena dropped her head onto his shoulder, half-listening. Listening enough to go red at his insinuation, anyway, scrunching up her mouth in flattered amusement. She did her best to help get herself up on the table, and eventually arranged herself into some semblance of dignity, Azazel a bedraggled feathery bundle tucked up against her hip.
“Thank you,” she told Max, honestly grateful, “’m real glad you showed up, it wasn’t much fun down there…I’m allergic to redwort,” Sena added to Buram, “In case it matters…just ’cause going into anaphylactic shock ain’t real high on my list of Things to Do. Am I talkin’ too much? You can tell me to shut up if I get annoying.” She pressed her lips together deliberately to keep herself from babbling anything else; talking was a relief, fear, pain, and happiness thing for her, which pretty much meant she always talked plenty, and generally she decided that if people didn’t like it that was their problem but…distracting the person trying to fix her was not really a good idea ever.
Her mouth stayed shut for all of maybe five seconds, head bowing forward in exhaustion, before she blinked rapidly and said, “Oh wait—” and cast a hopeful glance towards Max, “The Candidatemaster—he’ll’ve missed me by now probably, could we get a message to him? And I think I hit my head,” she told Buram, apropos of nothing, and reached up to touch the side of her head, above her ear, “About here? Ow. Does that mean I can’t sleep or else I’ll go into a coma and die?”
“Thank you,” she told Max, honestly grateful, “’m real glad you showed up, it wasn’t much fun down there…I’m allergic to redwort,” Sena added to Buram, “In case it matters…just ’cause going into anaphylactic shock ain’t real high on my list of Things to Do. Am I talkin’ too much? You can tell me to shut up if I get annoying.” She pressed her lips together deliberately to keep herself from babbling anything else; talking was a relief, fear, pain, and happiness thing for her, which pretty much meant she always talked plenty, and generally she decided that if people didn’t like it that was their problem but…distracting the person trying to fix her was not really a good idea ever.
Her mouth stayed shut for all of maybe five seconds, head bowing forward in exhaustion, before she blinked rapidly and said, “Oh wait—” and cast a hopeful glance towards Max, “The Candidatemaster—he’ll’ve missed me by now probably, could we get a message to him? And I think I hit my head,” she told Buram, apropos of nothing, and reached up to touch the side of her head, above her ear, “About here? Ow. Does that mean I can’t sleep or else I’ll go into a coma and die?”