Re: Eddie/Muerte
[She's in the sitting room yet, but a few feet from the chair she was in, sprawled on the floor where she fell after just a few steps, curled down to rest her forearms on the floor, head hanging heavy, journal open next to her. That silver-red is all over her, hands covered in it and slipping down her neck and chest, dripping on the floor and her journal. Her voice is sketchy gravel when she talks, but she tries to force out the words with some sort of authority.] No! You leave.