quicklog: flash/marta
[Marta had shut down Skype and done her best to set her laptop aside, but mostly she'd just shoved it to a different corner of her bed where it lay open on her sheets. The rest of her bed was a tumble of clean sheets, pillows, and a quilt, shoved into a corner of her studio apartment. It had good light in the daytime and there were a few lamps set at certain exact spots to light things in the evening. The walls had a few generic posters thumb-tacked up, and the whole corner looked girly and inviting.
There was, somewhat randomly, a tripod with a webcam lingering near the outer corner of the bed. And at a different corner, a rubbermaid bin about half the size of a laundry basket. Currently very closed.
The rest of the space was a standard above-store studio apartment. The bed area was curtained off by sheets hung like curtains from a line pulled across the room. They were currently open, keeping the space one open area, a tiny kitchenette to the side and the door to a bathroom opposite from the bed. There wasn't much furniture other than the bed, only a tiny table with a single chair near the kitchen and a loveseat in what counted as a livingroom. The livingroom also held a wardrobe type piece that was all the storage the place had. The effect was that attention was immediately drawn to the bed's corner as a comfortable contrast to the rest of the space.
And where Marta was laying, fully clothed in last night's outfit other than her shoes, even though there was still dirt smudges all over it. She had dirt on her as well, on her skin and in her hair, though the areas of her injures had been cleaned well. And though the dirt on her clothing was transferring some to her sheets, she didn't get up to change anything.]