[ Truthfully, she isn't used to having actual events affect her life. Lottie's been convinced that if it hasn't happened in the year or so she's been coerced (trapped? Forced?) into being apart of other people's problems, it certainly won't happen now. The worst that's ever happened to her is being reborn (the first and second time), and losing her hand (regrowing it). That's it. Everyone else's drama has always been just that: their drama. Even the plague, the blight, she hadn't been concerned about. After all, if she can't get sick, why should she care?
Now, with both cities being barren, she can see why she maybe should've done something.
(With the sun beating down on her back, she wonders if there was anything she could've done to change this. If this was always meant to happen, somehow, the universe's cruel way of ending the longest running joke of a 'battle'.)
Her magic only partially worksβ enough to glamour her shape to where she doesn't look as fucked up as she feels. The sudden shift in weather, in everything, has left her body in disarray. Her allergies are making it difficult for her to concentrate, and she's so stressed that she has hives. The rest of her senses being diluted doesn't even matter at this point, either, because there's nothing to smell. Nothing to hear. Walking through each city β a careful, arduous task β is eerily silent, uncomfortably so, save for the sound of her shoes hitting the pavement.
It's why she barely catches those footsteps wandering into one of the nicer looking buildings she's planning (read: trying not to have a breakdown) inside. What gets her is that hello, because even if she can't quite place a name to it, she knows that voice. What did she call him? Godguy? Egyptdude? Dirtguy? She rubs at her face, growing frustrated she can't even recall something that's meant to make her life easier. So she tries standing up, manages the movement successfully as she tries to make out the shape of him. ]
..Hey?
[ She calls out, recognition seeping into her voice as she squints in his direction. It's barely lit in here β all the lights, anything functioning that would count as modern day living are effectively gone. No sink works, no stove, much less a bulb, so she can only tell it's him from his silhouette. However, he might be able to see the vibrant green coloring her hair, how it sways in a ponytail as she ambles closer. Or the distinctly summery look to her (yes, she is wearing shorts and sneakers, a loose tank top tucked into the waistband). ]
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Now, with both cities being barren, she can see why she maybe should've done something.
(With the sun beating down on her back, she wonders if there was anything she could've done to change this. If this was always meant to happen, somehow, the universe's cruel way of ending the longest running joke of a 'battle'.)
Her magic only partially worksβ enough to glamour her shape to where she doesn't look as fucked up as she feels. The sudden shift in weather, in everything, has left her body in disarray. Her allergies are making it difficult for her to concentrate, and she's so stressed that she has hives. The rest of her senses being diluted doesn't even matter at this point, either, because there's nothing to smell. Nothing to hear. Walking through each city β a careful, arduous task β is eerily silent, uncomfortably so, save for the sound of her shoes hitting the pavement.
It's why she barely catches those footsteps wandering into one of the nicer looking buildings she's planning (read: trying not to have a breakdown) inside. What gets her is that hello, because even if she can't quite place a name to it, she knows that voice. What did she call him? Godguy? Egyptdude? Dirtguy? She rubs at her face, growing frustrated she can't even recall something that's meant to make her life easier. So she tries standing up, manages the movement successfully as she tries to make out the shape of him. ]
..Hey?
[ She calls out, recognition seeping into her voice as she squints in his direction. It's barely lit in here β all the lights, anything functioning that would count as modern day living are effectively gone. No sink works, no stove, much less a bulb, so she can only tell it's him from his silhouette. However, he might be able to see the vibrant green coloring her hair, how it sways in a ponytail as she ambles closer. Or the distinctly summery look to her (yes, she is wearing shorts and sneakers, a loose tank top tucked into the waistband). ]
I thought you died or something!