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[ It's actually the first time Sasha has ever used the Vine - and she has been around for two whole months by now. She's not doing it voluntarily, not in the way most do. She does have her hand curled around it, but she doesn't seem to be all there. In fact, she seems very off. ]

If you-- if you s-screw up, th-things happen. T-They make things h-happen t-to you.

[ She closes her eyes shut tightly and shakes her head, rubbing her face, curling her fingers around her fringe, like she's having a little mental breakdown. Which she probably is, all things considered. She hasn't sleep for days, hasn't eaten, needs a shower. ]

Don't go to sleep, don't go to sleep. [ Talking to herself here. She shakes her head again and then brings her knees up to her chest and lays her forehead against them, arms over her head. ]

[ She pulls her head up and seems to only notice the Vine then. She wails pitifully and tries to shake it off in a pathetic display of a already defeated struggle. ]

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Like what.

[ She shakes her head violently like she doesn't want to tell it, but then she shouts and curls again, feeling her tattoos burning up and that terrible sharp pain in her stomach, like there's something eating her from the inside. ]

N-no! No-t here, they'll-- l-listen, I'll s-screw up!

Sasha, shut up and come to the house.

[ Some people could find utmost rudeness in Jackie's words and lack of common sense and compassion, but any of those would be nerve-wrecking for Sasha. Orders, abrupt and sudden, she can deal with. She can cope with that, she can lead with being ordered around and being told what she can't and can do.

Still, she's going to writhe a bit more before the pain goes for the moment, and she's scratching her wrists compulsively until they're raw. ]

G-Go to the house. D-D-Don't sl-sleep, go to the h-house.

[ She's not even looking at the Vine when she stomps and kicks and pulls at it until she disentangles her hand and then wobbly - like a comedian making an impersonation of a drunk - stumbles to the house as told.. ]

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[ And there she is, sweating with effort and if she had any food on her stomach she would have had it all out by then. She stares at the house emptily and though she was told to go there, Sasha just ends up sitting against a tree from a fair distance, feeling both numb and nauseated, in pain and not really all there. ]

Sasha?

[ Hearing her name being called, she makes a small noise of effort and pushes herself away from the tree, leaning forward to see Jackie. For a time, she doesn't move, but then she presses her hands against her face and whimpers, trying to tense up her stomach muscles as if that would make the pain stop.

But it does subside a little and she's walking down to the house with limbs as if boneless, too weak to move them. Like that, she looks like an anemic ragdoll with dirty clothes and some really screwed up issues.

She stops a few metres away from Jackie and stares at her with tired, bloodshot eyes, blinking slowly as if she is going to fall asleep any minute. ]

Get up. Get up, we're going inside.

[ The automatic reaction that Jackie's hands are greeted with is a wince, shrinking under her massive clothes, like she's afraid she's going to get beaten up, but eventually she figures out she's not going to be hurt, so she eventually gets up.

She tugs her sleeves down, then up, then starts scratching at her tattooed wrists again, leaving them raw with that much itching. ]

I can't-- T-The Queen c-catches people do-doing bad th-things and then, then she pu-punishes them.

Stop it. And be quiet, you aren't doing anything wrong.

[ Flinching at the smack at her hands, Sasha stops it mainly because she was told so. She crosses her hands, hands underneath them, fingers curled into fists. She shakes her head, squeezes her eyes shut, twitches her shoulders slightly.

It doesn't take much for Sasha to be steered and she walks (well, drags herself) towards the house, head down, blinking too much for it to be natural. ]

I'm, I'm not b-but I have t-to.

Have to do, what?

[ Pushed, Sasha doesn't even complain, but she does wobble a little bit as she walks. The lack of sleep, the burning fever of the tattoos' poison searing inside of her, the pills and the cigarettes instead of food and water, it makes her so very unhealthy. It's a wonder how she's still standing and not dying alone in a ditch. ]

A bad thing.

[ She rubs her hands over her face, as if she's trying to keep awake, and then her fingers of a hand curl around her hair, pushing it away from her face, then tugging. ]

Tsk. Well, you look like a sewer rat. Clean up and then come out and eat something.

[ Looking at her a bit oddly, Sasha swallows dry and looks at the bathtub, then back at Jackie, but she's already heading off and that makes her tense up for a moment, but eventually, she shrugs off the dirty backpack and pulls off her clothes to take a much needed shower.

She doesn't delay on the shower, even if it does make her feel a little better - probably because it makes her feel better, she doesn't want to indulge.

All of her clothes (not that she carries more than two pairs of jeans and two big sweaters) are dirty, so she guesses she's not supposed to wear that. Instead, she wraps a towel around her scrawny body and sits on the edge of the bathtub, waiting to be told what to do. Wincing every now and then at the pain her body has to endure, though the shower did help her relax her muscles. ]

Here. I washed your sweater for you.

[ She takes the sweater from Jackie's hands and watches as she walks away. Dressing in front of people, nudity in general, it doesn't bother Sasha, she pays little to no mind to it, but she does wait for Jackie to leave. She usually doesn't take mirrors into account either, but she does it this one time. She doesn't like looking at her tattoos, but she has to see them. It's strange, by the look of scrawny Sasha, you would expect her whole skin to be rather dull, but the colours are vibrant and bright, especially the peacock's, like they're alive. She winces a little as she sees some sort of redness around them, like its infected, but she knows it's the poison spreading through her veins.

Jackie may see Sasha come up a little lost to the kitchen, dressed only in that baggy, oversized sweater that could be more of a dress than a shirt, holding her backpack against her chest like she's a kid and it is an oversized stuffed teddy bear, tired look and hair still wet, all messy and shooting in every direction.

She squeezes the backpack and shrugs her shoulders. ]

W-Why are you doing this? [ The lisp is not so bad, but the stutter is still there. ]

Because you look pathetic.

[ There's a blink and Sasha looks confused. It's not the statement, it's the fact that, well, she looks pathetic almost always, doesn't she? But she doesn't argue with Jackie, lowering her eyes to the floor tiredly. She pulls up the hood of her clean sweater, keeping her wet head warm.

She's looking at the food without much interest, a hand over her stomach, hunched over slightly, and shivering just a bit. Her eyes flicker up to Jackie for a moment, and then back to the onion. ]

Hum, y-you know whe-when you have to, hum, d-do bad stuff h-here? [ It's very frustrating to control her stuttering and her lisp at the same time, but she's trying so that it isn't excruciatingly hard to understand her. ] D-Do you think, if--if w-we ask fi-first the Queen-- [ A pause to control that goddamn stutter. ] T-Think she'll mind?

Good luck getting an answer.

[ Sasha isn't a vampire. She needs human blood - other than her own - because of the monster poison inside her. Her seeing blood doesn't turn the scenario into a classic Nosferatu scene. If it did, she wouldn't have been able to maintain the secret for so long, neither here and definitely not back where she is from.

Yet, her eyes follow the finger and the blood. One of her hands grips at the counter and her other fingers clutch at the sweater and she leans forward slightly, making a small sound of pain. She leans her forehead against her arm. ]

I need bl-blood. [ She finally spits it out. ] I have-- m-monster p-poison insi-inside me and-- [ She has to pause because her throat is too dry and she's stuttering too much and there's that lisp again. She bites on her tongue for a while. ] But I don't w-want to e-end up punished f-for it.

How much blood?

[ No, no, Jackie, you should know by now that nothing is normal in the lesbian Gardens of the crazy ass Queen. But to be fair, Sasha is human. She just has some monster poison inside her because of the ink of the tattoos in her skin. ]

I don't-- [ Sasha finally leans her head away from her arm to look at Jackie, looking scrawnier and sicker and paler than she usually already does. She scratches at her wrist as always, nervous. She never really counted how much blood she needed. When she needed it, it was some girl or some guy that wanted to have sex and thought it was a weird fetish of hers. Usually they didn't mind. ] Not much. [ She frowns. ] H-Half of an espresso c-cup?

Will mine work?

[ It's not like Jackie couldn't shake off Sasha if she flipped and attacked her, but that would hardly happen. For all the things Sasha is, she would not hurt Jackie. Her behaviour could, after all, be compared to a stray kitty in the sense she would always want to wander back later to the house. Jackie is fine. She doesn't treat her with nice words and doesn't fusses too much over her, but above her, she doesn't hurt her and doesn't have any intention to and gives her coffee. Even with her self-destructive behaviour, Sasha doesn't always rejects people. It's simply rare to see her not to.

For a moment she feels a little guilty, but it's not that she will hurt Jackie. She nods before the guilt can even wash away because easing her own pain is more important. ]

How do you usually do this?

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action; that's a lot of blood for a finger cut jackie

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