[Gideon is lying flat on her back on her starched-white sheets, hands folded behind her head and her mind occupied with swords. She aches for the feeling of a longsword in her hands again, to get the hell out of here and get back to drill practice, and the food stalls, and bars with hot chicks-- though she isn't at all convinced she's ready to go out roaming the desert alone just yet. It's impossible not to think that the boredom of being stuck in here is slowly turning her mind to mush. And fuck knows how the last few weeks will have impacted her strength and stamina; every time she so much as attempts a press-up a member of staff crawls out of the woodwork and tries to shoo her back to bed. They're just doing their jobs. They're trying to help. She knows this. It doesn't make her resent them any less.
When she hears a familiar voice from the doorway she sits up sharp, the sullen line of her mouth quickly giving out onto a crooked grin.]
Claude!
[She says, pushing herself upright before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. People have visited her. Fuck knows Alucard has been keeping her company, a fact she's eternally grateful for. That doesn't leave her any less thrilled to see a familiar face, particularly one she's barely caught sight of since that frantic, desperate day of the initial escape.]
no subject
When she hears a familiar voice from the doorway she sits up sharp, the sullen line of her mouth quickly giving out onto a crooked grin.]
Claude!
[She says, pushing herself upright before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. People have visited her. Fuck knows Alucard has been keeping her company, a fact she's eternally grateful for. That doesn't leave her any less thrilled to see a familiar face, particularly one she's barely caught sight of since that frantic, desperate day of the initial escape.]
Get in here. Show me what you got.