Mizu's first instinct is to collapse, but with Vergil watching, Mizu takes more care. She sits and rests her injured arm in her lap. Her wounds aren't bleeding as profusely as before, either because she's running out of blood or because the wounds are clotting. Each injury comes with damage to her clothes, cuts through the layers. Mizu pulls her sleeve away from her arm and winces. It sets her to bleeding a little more. The bowl and towels come into her peripheral vision, not as black as before, and Mizu grunts in appreciation.
The cuts in her clothing allow her to clean the wounds without revealing more skin than necessary. Without revealing anything she doesn't want to. Mizu uses her uninjured hand to clean around the wounds so nothing goes worse before she can heal them. Her ability isn't an excuse for reckless wound care. She flinches as she goes, pressing against sensitive wounds. That's how injuries go. Even Vergil isn't entirely stoic. Mizu saw that today. It's not embarrassing to be wounded or to take care of herself. Even as her head gets woozy, she carries on, wiping her face along the way.
The clothes are the greater surprise. The entire time it takes Vergil to leave, to place the amulet on the nightstand and go, Mizu focuses her attention on the simple nightclothes offered to her. She remembers how similar clothes fit on Vergil when she stopped by. They'll fit differently on her, and Mizu puzzles whether that would reveal more of her shape than she would like. To add to the matter, Mizu doesn't know how long it will take Vergil to shower, less than a bath, and she remains injured. That very well may be something he's chosen to be polite, so he can make food more quickly, but Mizu doubts she has time to change into these clothes and change back, should they be unacceptable. Fortunately, Vergil knows Mizu to be plenty rude when she chooses, so there's no social obligation to accept the offer.
There is no time for indecision. Mizu scans the room, as though Vergil may have overlooked some unexpected squatter in this room, and moves quickly despite the pain. She unties her obi, removes her haori, and forces her injured arm through one sleeve, grateful the shirt is large on her. She finishes pulling it on and considers it. Mizu scowls at the way the light breeze coming through the door emphasizes her curves. Her haori is dirty and sliced through, but Mizu pulls it on over the shirt to add some weight. The shirt is clearly visible where the largest slash across her torso goes.
The trousers... Mizu turns toward the closed bathroom door. The shower is still running. Fine. Her legs themselves aren't injured. It only hurts to lift herself up and twist her body around in the act of dressing and undressing. Unless she heals herself here, Mizu doubts she'll want to change back before leaving. In total, she's dressed without being seen. The trousers do not call attention to her hips, and her haori guards her silhouette.
The excitement and terror of the situation wear off and leave Mizu drained and exhausted and wavering even as she sits. Mizu leaves her clothes where they lay and lies down, settling on her back as the least awful option, and passes out without thinking about it.
no subject
The cuts in her clothing allow her to clean the wounds without revealing more skin than necessary. Without revealing anything she doesn't want to. Mizu uses her uninjured hand to clean around the wounds so nothing goes worse before she can heal them. Her ability isn't an excuse for reckless wound care. She flinches as she goes, pressing against sensitive wounds. That's how injuries go. Even Vergil isn't entirely stoic. Mizu saw that today. It's not embarrassing to be wounded or to take care of herself. Even as her head gets woozy, she carries on, wiping her face along the way.
The clothes are the greater surprise. The entire time it takes Vergil to leave, to place the amulet on the nightstand and go, Mizu focuses her attention on the simple nightclothes offered to her. She remembers how similar clothes fit on Vergil when she stopped by. They'll fit differently on her, and Mizu puzzles whether that would reveal more of her shape than she would like. To add to the matter, Mizu doesn't know how long it will take Vergil to shower, less than a bath, and she remains injured. That very well may be something he's chosen to be polite, so he can make food more quickly, but Mizu doubts she has time to change into these clothes and change back, should they be unacceptable. Fortunately, Vergil knows Mizu to be plenty rude when she chooses, so there's no social obligation to accept the offer.
There is no time for indecision. Mizu scans the room, as though Vergil may have overlooked some unexpected squatter in this room, and moves quickly despite the pain. She unties her obi, removes her haori, and forces her injured arm through one sleeve, grateful the shirt is large on her. She finishes pulling it on and considers it. Mizu scowls at the way the light breeze coming through the door emphasizes her curves. Her haori is dirty and sliced through, but Mizu pulls it on over the shirt to add some weight. The shirt is clearly visible where the largest slash across her torso goes.
The trousers... Mizu turns toward the closed bathroom door. The shower is still running. Fine. Her legs themselves aren't injured. It only hurts to lift herself up and twist her body around in the act of dressing and undressing. Unless she heals herself here, Mizu doubts she'll want to change back before leaving. In total, she's dressed without being seen. The trousers do not call attention to her hips, and her haori guards her silhouette.
The excitement and terror of the situation wear off and leave Mizu drained and exhausted and wavering even as she sits. Mizu leaves her clothes where they lay and lies down, settling on her back as the least awful option, and passes out without thinking about it.