07-29-2020, 11:36 PM
Georgia didn't know what to think.
She'd arrived on the scene not long after Paola - a foul stench littering the breeze where sea salt should be. It drew her attention, and when she discovered the carcass, she almost expected it to be an ocean creature's body. But this smelled warm and fresh and absolutely vile.
For a moment, all she could do was stare. Georgia wasn't foreign to death, not really; ocean life died all the time, and accepting that had been a core part of her morals. However, this...this... She was frozen, rooted to the spot, hardly aware of the others as the cloying scent of blood polluted the air. Gia's eyes roamed over the body, her neck and body tingling where the victim's had been torn apart. She was equally horrified by the state of the carcass and the fact that it seemed to be someone of conscious thought that had done this. Her jaw clenched, a bitter breeze picking up and sweeping the scent of the decaying body in the opposite direction.
Similar to Paola, Georgia felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. There was a day like this, not to long ago, where she was younger and still bobbling about with more kitten fluff than she knew what to do with. A day like this, where the sun was out and the clouds swam peacefully across the sky; where she found her father, a man with no sin, brutalized and bleeding. He had died, sprawled on the ground, his daughter's name on his lips. That was the day Georgia had caused her first thunderstorm - her desperate cries lost to the howling wind and rumbling thunder.
This situation was different: Georgia had no personal or affectionate ties to the character bleeding on the beach. She had no reason to be upset, per say; only revolted in every sense. However, the harder she tried to ground herself, the more she found her vision blurring with tears, her stomach rolling, and the hazy memory of her father's death popping up in her mind's forefront.
Not trusting her voice, the somali turned and left.
She'd arrived on the scene not long after Paola - a foul stench littering the breeze where sea salt should be. It drew her attention, and when she discovered the carcass, she almost expected it to be an ocean creature's body. But this smelled warm and fresh and absolutely vile.
For a moment, all she could do was stare. Georgia wasn't foreign to death, not really; ocean life died all the time, and accepting that had been a core part of her morals. However, this...this... She was frozen, rooted to the spot, hardly aware of the others as the cloying scent of blood polluted the air. Gia's eyes roamed over the body, her neck and body tingling where the victim's had been torn apart. She was equally horrified by the state of the carcass and the fact that it seemed to be someone of conscious thought that had done this. Her jaw clenched, a bitter breeze picking up and sweeping the scent of the decaying body in the opposite direction.
Similar to Paola, Georgia felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. There was a day like this, not to long ago, where she was younger and still bobbling about with more kitten fluff than she knew what to do with. A day like this, where the sun was out and the clouds swam peacefully across the sky; where she found her father, a man with no sin, brutalized and bleeding. He had died, sprawled on the ground, his daughter's name on his lips. That was the day Georgia had caused her first thunderstorm - her desperate cries lost to the howling wind and rumbling thunder.
This situation was different: Georgia had no personal or affectionate ties to the character bleeding on the beach. She had no reason to be upset, per say; only revolted in every sense. However, the harder she tried to ground herself, the more she found her vision blurring with tears, her stomach rolling, and the hazy memory of her father's death popping up in her mind's forefront.
Not trusting her voice, the somali turned and left.
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[glow=#3e4242,200,600]YOU ARE THE RITE OF MOVEMENT[/glow]
*:･ﾟ✧ — georgia sarris-rosi — demigod of the sea — tags