( Goodness. Certainly everything had a bit of a mess before finding herself in the dark (literally or figuratively), and even with her hands full with the ah... literature provided in the imposing building behind her, all combed over before stepping foot outside the unfamiliar doors, Sharon wouldn't be inclined to saying she has the slightest proper inkling of what's going on.
For one, there are cities, and there is this place, filled with people as any city is wont to be, and filled with all sorts of vehicles that roared, buzzed, and hiccuped their way through streets empty of anything usually found in streets -- except for birds.
Birds were ubiquitous.
Regardless, it's difficult to prevent her eyes from widening, confronted now with the sights more than the sounds, the scents more than recent memories. This is no Reveil, but with a distracted glance up, up, up past the top of the building she's just stepped out of, there is the sky, dutifully looking much like the sky usually does, dependent on the weather. There's that, she thinks, and deciding that it's past time for reaction, breathes in, closes her eyes, tucks her chin in and straightens her back. Poise, cheer, delicacy and beauty. She's a Rainsworth. She can handle this, unplanned and unexpected as it was, and she will. Simple as that.
Sharon smiles as she opens her eyes again, letting thoughts filter through (are those women? dressed as men? in such form fitting clothing! can someone be both scanadlized and intruigued at once? no one else seemed to notice, or to care. hmm.) that were largely irrelevant. The literature provided in the building hadn't been so in depth as it had been cautionary. Understanding the extent of her situation, or that of people like her, would require looking into.
Which would be why an apparently thirteen, fourteen year old girl with slightly mussed hair dressed in Victorian-style clothing has taken to walking down the sidewalk, coming to a pause in front of the puddle of the century. There is no way around this puddle, and no clear, easy way through.
It's an awfully silly moment to find herself confronted with, sincec it's nothing but a puddle, but for the few moments it takes her to decide on the best course of action, there she is: stopped-before-a-puddle-girl. (Young woman, but one would never know, not without insight into her history.) )
sharon rainsworth | pandora hearts
For one, there are cities, and there is this place, filled with people as any city is wont to be, and filled with all sorts of vehicles that roared, buzzed, and hiccuped their way through streets empty of anything usually found in streets -- except for birds.
Birds were ubiquitous.
Regardless, it's difficult to prevent her eyes from widening, confronted now with the sights more than the sounds, the scents more than recent memories. This is no Reveil, but with a distracted glance up, up, up past the top of the building she's just stepped out of, there is the sky, dutifully looking much like the sky usually does, dependent on the weather. There's that, she thinks, and deciding that it's past time for reaction, breathes in, closes her eyes, tucks her chin in and straightens her back. Poise, cheer, delicacy and beauty. She's a Rainsworth. She can handle this, unplanned and unexpected as it was, and she will. Simple as that.
Sharon smiles as she opens her eyes again, letting thoughts filter through (are those women? dressed as men? in such form fitting clothing! can someone be both scanadlized and intruigued at once? no one else seemed to notice, or to care. hmm.) that were largely irrelevant. The literature provided in the building hadn't been so in depth as it had been cautionary. Understanding the extent of her situation, or that of people like her, would require looking into.
Which would be why an apparently thirteen, fourteen year old girl with slightly mussed hair dressed in Victorian-style clothing has taken to walking down the sidewalk, coming to a pause in front of the puddle of the century. There is no way around this puddle, and no clear, easy way through.
It's an awfully silly moment to find herself confronted with, sincec it's nothing but a puddle, but for the few moments it takes her to decide on the best course of action, there she is: stopped-before-a-puddle-girl. (Young woman, but one would never know, not without insight into her history.) )