[ The burst of air Mercy emits through her nose at 2B's remark is a nearly translucent breed of amusement, something long desiccated in a pitiless sun. It is not repeated, particularly as they draw close to the crowded broadwalk, and Mercy stiffens like an unhappy cat.
They pass the seaweed crowns, and she unwinches by a single degree of torque. When 2B tips her, Mercy does not topple as her brittleness might suggest, but flows out of 2B's arms like a tumbling linen.
Once her bare feet touch the ground, the blood that remains on her dries in a single hot flash, turning to a crumbling green-tinged ash. She does not shake it from herself. She stands in place, head slightly drooped, like a dusty, wilted flower. Her butterfly stirs a cloud of it with its fluttering. ]
...I am perfectly capable of conducting myself from here.
[ She says, with an odd, shut quality to her voice, like a boarded up house. ]
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They pass the seaweed crowns, and she unwinches by a single degree of torque. When 2B tips her, Mercy does not topple as her brittleness might suggest, but flows out of 2B's arms like a tumbling linen.
Once her bare feet touch the ground, the blood that remains on her dries in a single hot flash, turning to a crumbling green-tinged ash. She does not shake it from herself. She stands in place, head slightly drooped, like a dusty, wilted flower. Her butterfly stirs a cloud of it with its fluttering. ]
...I am perfectly capable of conducting myself from here.
[ She says, with an odd, shut quality to her voice, like a boarded up house. ]