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elektra natchios (skyblack) wrote in crownplazaic,

Elektra turned her head toward the voice. The footsteps had been real, then, and not another trick of this wretched island. Her expectations were so low as to be nearly non-existent, yet she still experienced a flicker of surprise when she saw the stranger's helmet. It was so shiny that she saw herself reflected in the metal alloy, its smooth curves distorting her features. Or rendering them most accurately.

The black slit where the stranger's eyes likely were, assuming he had any, gave nothing away. Neither did his posture, though he didn't seem aggressive. Not one of Bobby Drake's friends, then. Elektra let out a smoky breath. "Is it?" She had awoken in the charred remains of her clothing, smelling of cooked meat, her own screams ringing in her ears. That she had awoken at all should probably have sufficed. Maybe. She'd have to find a better person and ask.