( Despite the urge to pull away, Sarissa herds some of the metallic beaks and feathers out of the carnage. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of rubber gloves and a pack of anti-bacterial cleaning wipes, right about now. The goal is to try and pull them out for inspection, but the rush of flies is buzzing loud in her ears, and her stomach churns for a second.
It reminds her of a terrible summer, when it felt like the whole station was dried out. Flies had picked over everything, that had been rolling masses of mice that seemed to cover just about anything, and a burst of nausea anchors in her belly as cold sweat starts to run down her back.
Get your shit together.
She turns to the stash of papers, grabs one of the cardboard drop folders, and folds it until she can scoop up some of her metallic feathers and beaks, wrapping it up. When she pulls down the shirt she had covering her mouth, she looks between the other two. )
Dunno if these metallic things are gonna do any good, by they could be a clue.
( And, also: ) So, what. You’re the filth whisperer now, Sir Kol?
cw gore, ref to drought and mouse plagues, ptsd
It reminds her of a terrible summer, when it felt like the whole station was dried out. Flies had picked over everything, that had been rolling masses of mice that seemed to cover just about anything, and a burst of nausea anchors in her belly as cold sweat starts to run down her back.
Get your shit together.
She turns to the stash of papers, grabs one of the cardboard drop folders, and folds it until she can scoop up some of her metallic feathers and beaks, wrapping it up. When she pulls down the shirt she had covering her mouth, she looks between the other two. )
Dunno if these metallic things are gonna do any good, by they could be a clue.
( And, also: ) So, what. You’re the filth whisperer now, Sir Kol?