"Um," she says again, looking down at herself. It takes her a few moments to realize the dress she's wearing is her own. The colors are too stark, the pattern too simplified. She presses a hand to her side and winces - not in pain, but in general discomfort. Her wound appears to be gone, but the disparity between how real her dress feels and how wrong it looks is incredibly unnerving. She lifts a hand to her hair, next - again, it feels normal enough between her pudgy fingers, but all she can see out of the corner of her eye is a brown, textureless blob.
"I'm not hurt," she says, getting to her feet. "But this is... I don't like it." Which sounds petulant, especially given how much worse off they could be. Neither of them are injured or under attack. Compared with those possibilities, being a cartoon ought to be a treat. She bends her arm experimentally, and the way it curves almost makes her ill; she has to shut her eyes and take a few steadying breaths.
no subject
It doesn't count if it's in a dream okay"Um," she says again, looking down at herself. It takes her a few moments to realize the dress she's wearing is her own. The colors are too stark, the pattern too simplified. She presses a hand to her side and winces - not in pain, but in general discomfort. Her wound appears to be gone, but the disparity between how real her dress feels and how wrong it looks is incredibly unnerving. She lifts a hand to her hair, next - again, it feels normal enough between her pudgy fingers, but all she can see out of the corner of her eye is a brown, textureless blob.
"I'm not hurt," she says, getting to her feet. "But this is... I don't like it." Which sounds petulant, especially given how much worse off they could be. Neither of them are injured or under attack. Compared with those possibilities, being a cartoon ought to be a treat. She bends her arm experimentally, and the way it curves almost makes her ill; she has to shut her eyes and take a few steadying breaths.