( specifically, it's the sound of footsteps. if he looks up, he'll see a girl who may look familiar- someone he's seen in only a passing vision. she's carrying a pot again, white-green hair loose and tangled, and a crown of flowers plopped right on her head. her dress must have been beautiful in it's prime, but now the edges are torn and tattered and stained with dirt and grass and... blood.
her legs are wooden and ball-jointed, creaking with every step. flowers grow out of her skin along her arm and up her neck, and her veins are black. her red eyes are heavy-set and weary. yet they still light up when she looks up properly to see him. )
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her legs are wooden and ball-jointed, creaking with every step. flowers grow out of her skin along her arm and up her neck, and her veins are black. her red eyes are heavy-set and weary. yet they still light up when she looks up properly to see him. )
Oh... you're awake...