[ she'd love dearly to cover her nose and mouth, just to avoid breathing in that stench. Or close her eyes, but doing that when a burned version of your best friend is standing there with a knife in her hand is probably not the wisest idea. All of this is dizzying, terrifying-- but Rise's looked into mocking golden eyes, stood before perfectly smooth, flawless skin and a curvaceous body, and truthfully-- she'd felt even sicker then. She remains where she is this time, eyes dropping to the memory's extended hand and then flitting back up to her damaged face. She doesn't move quite yet, but one hand twitches slightly, as though it's considering moving for her. ]
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