[ Thankfully, Mima has the pencil held away from her eye when she hears the doors beyond their fluorescent dressing room burst open.
The sound jolts through her, her heart leaping into her throat, and she turns to watch the wall - following the sounds of shuffling, staggering footsteps beyond it with her eyes. She sets the pencil down among the rest of her inexpensive drugstore cosmetics and rises from her seat, rushing to open the dressing room door.
It's getting to be less and less of a shock, seeing things like the green man stumbling down the hallway toward her. Yokai are as common a fact of life as water now. She's seen, spoken to, flattered less human than the shambling mound before her in her new line of work. But still, the way his blood oozes all the way down the hallway behind him is concerning.
His voice shakes in her ears. She struggles not to recede back into the safe modernity of the dressing room just beside her, and instead, contents herself with pressing firmly into the frame. ]
The-- [ Her eyes flit from his massive beard of greenery, over those splintering wounds and cut vines, to the camera caught in long, clawlike fingers, ] --photographs?
[ It's familiar enough territory, at least... but not territory she'd expected to tread here. ]
charm school
The sound jolts through her, her heart leaping into her throat, and she turns to watch the wall - following the sounds of shuffling, staggering footsteps beyond it with her eyes. She sets the pencil down among the rest of her inexpensive drugstore cosmetics and rises from her seat, rushing to open the dressing room door.
It's getting to be less and less of a shock, seeing things like the green man stumbling down the hallway toward her. Yokai are as common a fact of life as water now. She's seen, spoken to, flattered less human than the shambling mound before her in her new line of work. But still, the way his blood oozes all the way down the hallway behind him is concerning.
His voice shakes in her ears. She struggles not to recede back into the safe modernity of the dressing room just beside her, and instead, contents herself with pressing firmly into the frame. ]
The-- [ Her eyes flit from his massive beard of greenery, over those splintering wounds and cut vines, to the camera caught in long, clawlike fingers, ] --photographs?
[ It's familiar enough territory, at least... but not territory she'd expected to tread here. ]