( There's a figure crouched on the sideway, a mass of blonde hair, a dress that was once pale, but now is streaked with mud and blood. The woman has dipped her fingers into one of the puddles of blood, and is sniffing at is as it rolls down her fingers, with the intensity and focus of a feral animal, before tasting it with the tip of her tongue.
The sound of a voice gets her attention, there is an unusual quality to it, and Helena cranes her neck at an almost unnatural angle, before slow standing. She moves with a strange way, holding herself as though she were something disjointed, or held together by broken glass. )
The blood is being rancid.
( Helpfully, she holds her hand up in offering, as though the stranger would want to smell more closely for themselves. The intense focus of her gaze is challenging, almost daring the woman to look away from her. )
I think they were gutting many pigs to get so much.
arrival / wildcard-ish - cw blood and just... helena.... being alarming....
The sound of a voice gets her attention, there is an unusual quality to it, and Helena cranes her neck at an almost unnatural angle, before slow standing. She moves with a strange way, holding herself as though she were something disjointed, or held together by broken glass. )
The blood is being rancid.
( Helpfully, she holds her hand up in offering, as though the stranger would want to smell more closely for themselves. The intense focus of her gaze is challenging, almost daring the woman to look away from her. )
I think they were gutting many pigs to get so much.