(no subject)

Shelley shivers, chilly now she is out of the warm shower, and hurries dressing. Tucking the ends of a pair of loose pants into her shoes stops them tripping her. The shirt, however, she gives up on, and wraps the sash from her dress around her waist a few times to turn it into a kind of tunic. Rolling the sleeves up exposes the faded pink line running down her left forearm, and she eyes it for a moment. But it's either that or have them flopping over her hands constantly.

She stares into the mirror for a few minutes as she combs her hair out, almost glaring at her reflection before she notices the mark on one side of her neck, and drops the brush. One fingertip brushes it lightly, before dragging the neckline of the shirt to one side, revealing one or two others. Oh. She closes her eyes as her cheeks redden. Not good.

No. It's fine, they'll fade. Deliberately she ties the shirtstrings as tight as possible to hide all but one, then brushes her hair forward instead of putting it up. Fine.

The girl lips her lips nervously, then heads out of the bathroom. She can get through a few hours.