[ Thomasin may not be as not as on edge as she was this time last week, despite her surprise at lunch, but after the motive, a shadow's been cast over the whole school, and it will not be easily lifted. In the evening, after the group meeting and a quiet supper in the cafeteria, she decides to finally redeem her coins at the vending machine. She's not certain, really, why it took her so long in the first place.
A great assortment of stuff materializes around her over the next few minutes, all of it baffling. She only barely catches the egg in time for it not to splat on the school store floor, and nervously sets it on a counter while she continues feeding red coins into the slot. If anyone comes in after the turtle comes out, she gives them an awkward look before clarifying: ]
'Tis not Valmont's.
[ Which sounds like something someone who stole Valmont's turtle would say, but you know what, it's fine! Finally, after yelping and jumping back as an arrow narrowly misses her, she's down to two coins. She puts one in, and for a moment it seems that the blood they spoke of at meeting has begun pouring from the neon facade of the vending machine. The reality is something worse. A filthy cloak, the color of fresh blood, lies on the floor. Thomasin has never seen the garment before, and yet she is certain she knows whose it is. Mercy's shrill voice comes to her as her hands tremble and her heart races.
A witch! I've seen her in her riding-cloak, about the wood. ]
No, no...
[ But words cannot take back the knowledge. She can smell the forest on it, and the woodsmoke and grease of daily life in the crudely-hewn world she once inhabited. There are stains on it she cannot think upon, lest she retch here and now. She doesn't want to touch it, but she must, to get it out of here before anyone sees—
Without thinking about it, one of her shaking hands puts the final coin in. Anyone who comes in for, like, the next five minutes will see Thomasin sitting on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she presses her face into the soft coat of a jumbo special big boy.
After composing herself again (and putting on the sunglasses), she takes most of her haul back to her room! And after that, she folds the cloak up and carries it, held in her arms like the sick inverse of a swaddled infant, to the workshop, where she throws that shit straight into the kiln. She, uh... doesn't know how to turn it on, though... a little help.......... ]
cw brief emeto mention
A great assortment of stuff materializes around her over the next few minutes, all of it baffling. She only barely catches the egg in time for it not to splat on the school store floor, and nervously sets it on a counter while she continues feeding red coins into the slot. If anyone comes in after the turtle comes out, she gives them an awkward look before clarifying: ]
'Tis not Valmont's.
[ Which sounds like something someone who stole Valmont's turtle would say, but you know what, it's fine! Finally, after yelping and jumping back as an arrow narrowly misses her, she's down to two coins. She puts one in, and for a moment it seems that the blood they spoke of at meeting has begun pouring from the neon facade of the vending machine. The reality is something worse. A filthy cloak, the color of fresh blood, lies on the floor. Thomasin has never seen the garment before, and yet she is certain she knows whose it is. Mercy's shrill voice comes to her as her hands tremble and her heart races.
A witch! I've seen her in her riding-cloak, about the wood. ]
No, no...
[ But words cannot take back the knowledge. She can smell the forest on it, and the woodsmoke and grease of daily life in the crudely-hewn world she once inhabited. There are stains on it she cannot think upon, lest she retch here and now. She doesn't want to touch it, but she must, to get it out of here before anyone sees—
Without thinking about it, one of her shaking hands puts the final coin in. Anyone who comes in for, like, the next five minutes will see Thomasin sitting on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she presses her face into the soft coat of a jumbo special big boy.
After composing herself again (and putting on the sunglasses), she takes most of her haul back to her room! And after that, she folds the cloak up and carries it, held in her arms like the sick inverse of a swaddled infant, to the workshop, where she throws that shit straight into the kiln. She, uh... doesn't know how to turn it on, though... a little help.......... ]