[Athena keeps a hand closed over her mouth, gritting her teeth until she feels the pain pass. When she pulls her hand away, it’s violet with her blood. She realizes her other hand is white-knuckled around Joan’s own and she slowly loosens her grip.]
I… don’t know. [Was it a change? There is fog out after all. But when she brings her hand back to her mouth, she can’t feel anything that different. Except...]
There’s a scar. [She traces it with her fingers and finds that it’s actually many small scars, criss-crossing her lips as if sewn there. She looks at Joan, confusion written into her expression.]
I don’t understand. [Why would the fog give her scars? And why now?]
no subject
I… don’t know. [Was it a change? There is fog out after all. But when she brings her hand back to her mouth, she can’t feel anything that different. Except...]
There’s a scar. [She traces it with her fingers and finds that it’s actually many small scars, criss-crossing her lips as if sewn there. She looks at Joan, confusion written into her expression.]
I don’t understand. [Why would the fog give her scars? And why now?]