Thread: Line of Sight (Survivor00 & ohstefyelectric)

The organization of the room made her feel all the more safer, if that was even possible in a place like this, she wasn't quite sure she enjoyed being alone in this crumbling building. What if something collided with this building and sent it tumbling to the ground just as the symphony hall had. What if the wrong shot caused a target to a bomb to blow them all to pieces? It was a startling concept, one that left her moving faster to get this room in it's proper order, the dust seeming to be laughing at her as it occasionally flew up to dare reach at her face and engulf her, blowing it the other was as a true expert to cleaning would. Tempted to use the rag that had been used to clean the blood and dirt off that brute's skin, her large eyes flickered about the room and found no signs of another rag, she let out a soft sigh, slipping out of her boots carefully. This was going to be a bit awkward, but thankfully no one had barged into the room yet, reaching under her dress for a moment and pulling down the soft nylon material of her tights, they were sheer, although she hadn't expected to be walked in on in such an awkward position. Especially not by the brute again. One of her hands holding the front of her dress while the other was tugging at the nylon, there was a flurry of heat to reach her cheeks and she instantly moved to pull them off her legs and step back into her boots. What a compromising position to be caught in. Thankfully, or at least in Amadora's mind, she hadn't paid any attention to it, being too busy messing up the alignment in her desks by nearly tripping over one. Obviously, she was not pleased, but that hadn't been her goal, eyes looking down at her tights as she carefully tore them in half down the center, folding one down carefully into a make shift rag, she used only a small amount of the water from the opposite rag, seeing as it was coated in a mixture of blood, sweat, dirt, and poor quality water, she began clearing the dirt off the desks silently. Frustration being pushed toward Amadora, it didn't cause her to stop, merely to look up when the can of beans slammed down on one of the desks she had yet to reach, however her eyes stopped on the can of beans. It looked like it had been shot at just like the rest of them had! And it was just a can of beans! That wasn't why she wouldn't eat the beans however. A half full can of beans, she noted, as she peeked over it. She was offering her a can of beans to sit down? Furrowing her brows just slightly, the sometimes frustratingly stubborn girl shook her head sternly, No. I won't. But I know if you finish eating them it will shut you up. She snapped, shoving the can of beans back into her hands and scrubbing at the desk with a bit of force, this probably being the cleanest desk in this room. She was cleaning for if they came back. She was cleaning so that something, if the children who had once been in this very room, looked familiar. It would look as though it had when they left, even if the walls were crumbling and the bookshelf was without all the books it had once had. Amadora wasn't hungry, or at least she didn't feel hungry, but just because she had organized a room she was frustrated? Please. Not only was she rude, but obviously she didn't have manners and she didn't have any common manners. Picking fights. I'm not picking fights damnit, She was on her last desk when her eyes shot back to the brute again, different colored orbs narrowed, she began to advance on her now, I'm not here for this! I didn't come here to hear you talk to me like I'm a child because I'm not used to bombs blowing up everywhere and dead people laying around like grass! But I'm not going to apologize for it! I'm not even going to apologize for putting the desks back the way they should be! She wasn't hollering, but her voice had gotten past the regular octave that she used, evidently, this was another side effect of this situation toying with Amadora's mind. But that had only been the build up to her own personal explosion, AND YOU DON'T MAKE ANY GODDAMN SENSE! AND I HATE YOU! AND I WANT TO PLAY IN MY GODDAMN SYMPHONY! Now, through those last words, she had definitely been screaming, her cheekbones a soft pink color, moving swiftly through the aisles and kicking a chair out of her way to get back to her cello. Filthy, fastidioso bruta. Ha ottenuto il suo nervo. listu