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((Cameo Conroy continues from Sparks of the Tempest))

Don't go near her.

The grass crunched almost mutedly under her boots as she shuffled around the grass sprouted and dying along the side of the train stop. No one knew she was there. Cameo could see them go about their business, but nobody knew she was there. She saw the kid, and the horrendous monster of a girl, and the dainty one almost out of sight and covered in blood, all from the broadside she was hiding.

She had only just arrived when people started to show up. No time to act, she'd shrunken down the sides of the building until they wanted to go, but it didn't look like they were leaving. That was until the other girl showed up, covered in what she knew perfectly well now was blood. And it wasn't just that it was there, it was that it was everywhere, all over her skin, her clothing, like she'd been dipped in it. A gruelling thought it was.

Death had graced her. She may not have been the victim, but she knew that unmistakably gaunt and hallowed look anyway. It may as well have been the very look that came over her own face upon finding that boy's body down by the water, only wracked in more terror than apathy and calm.

But people would do their things. They would wander, and they would happen upon such an emotional girl, and they would do what the boy was doing and go towards her. It was human behaviour.

Cameo wanted to run at him, to stop him.

Don't go near her.

Don't go near her.

She's going to kill you.
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From Where You're Kneeling · Town Outskirts
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