X-Mansion: A Phoenix, a Soldier, and a Witch
[The woman in the tub certainly didn't appear dangerous, her body curved into a comma, knees tight against the cool walls that should have smelled like bleach but instead smelled of nothing at all and the sharp ridges of her vertebrae apparent above the back neckline of her thin shift. Eating was - eating was problematic - and largely secondary to anything else when she couldn't remember what day it was and on the days she did, the migraine beat at her temples so fiercely that she couldn't make it outside and keeping any food down was an impossibility.
Impossible, like having visitors. Except there was someone, wasn't there? She rolled, elbows and heels thumping against the walls of her ceramic out-of-place prison.
And yes, there was a him. Not the him of graveyards and smokestacks, but a him that known and not, pictures in black and white and sepia toned, he was - he was - her mouth formed the word 'yes' without a sound coming out - she rubbed her temple against the cool lip, like she was trying to rub the memory into thought, past the fierce ache that'd begun between her temples.
It hurt. It hurt so much -
And then it didn't. She floated upwards, the top half of her body first until she made a single vertical line, her uncombed hair still wild around her head as she stepped out. Stains hovered at her knees, once blood red had now darkened into nearly black and her bare feet bore the evidence of having been cut multiple times on the broken path, with red seeped into the spaces between her toes.
Scarlet light crackled at her fingertips and maybe, just maybe, that feeling he had was accurate.] Who are you?