drown the reality / faemous, day 3

"Oh thank god."

Water.

The little pool comes like an omen. A wonderful omen. A wonderful, blue, shining omen. She's so thirsty that she could die. Her head's still pounding from their wild escape flight and from the wine last night, it feels like there's cotton stuck under her tongue, like her skull's being split open, a handful of sand lining her throat and blocking her airway.

Plus she needed a bath, like, two days ago.

It's not very warm out, but with her leg relatively fixed up, Perry really couldn't care less. It could be a snowy tundra, and the water could be half frozen over, and she'd still be ecstatic. Plus, her hip doesn't even hurt that much anymore. She's fine - peachy, even! It got a lot better once she stopped complaining.

Perry bends down to brush her fingers against the surface of the water, relishing in the cool chill of the ripples, then she abruptly sticks her hands in up to the wrist. She cups them, reaches to smooth her hair back, splashes her face and wipes the grime off her neck, her arms, her shoulders. Her skin glistens with the droplets, shining the same way her teeth do when they hit the light just right.

It's not the same shine as Larissa, and it's not Bellamy's glow either. It's more like an inflection of the light. The absence of it makes it more apparent. The other two have a warmth to them, but Perry's illuminated by the water in the same way a star is. It's a cold light, like the threatening aura of a black hole; something waiting just on the edge of your vision so it can creep closer when you turn away.

Something like that wants to devour.

The air gets a little stiller, a little quieter, Perry moves to sit on the edge of the cenote and slips her legs into the water, pondering to herself. Second time's the charm? It's purposeful now - the spiderweb silk that sat at her waist settles around her torso, the lace bunching up as she pulls it up and away from the water.

It'd be a pain to get her only clothes soaked.

She peers up at Bellamy and Larissa, suddenly charged with something, leaning forward like she's about to push herself in.

"I probably shouldn't get the bandages wet." She trails off, unable to stop the little smirk, "I might need some help."