It's strange, being fully aware of the fact that she's totally undressed in
Tris' bathroom and also very much not in a position to linger on it: it's
definitely not aligning with some of the ideas Blue's had (scarcely allowed
herself to consider, for a long time) about being undressed around Tris.
She finds herself thankful for the first aid kit; the gravel and dust comes
off her arms and legs with not too much coaxing, but it reopens a lot of
the scraping. A little voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother, or
Calla maybe, reminds her to let it bleed, that bleeding serves a purpose,
and she swears through it for a moment or two, turning the water to cold,
before stepping out and finding the first aid kit.
It looks like it might bandage up an army's worth of field injuries -- of
course it does. It's a little bit endearing, how thoroughly Tris is
stocked, and Blue pulls out gauze and big bandages and tape and ponders
things like antibiotic ointment. It's not terribly hard to pat her elbows
and forearms dry and get them bandaided, her knees, to make executive
decisions about scrapes that don't need covering, but as she twists to
examine herself, her shoulder and hip where she skidded on the asphalt are
raw and twisting to try and get everything proves impossible.
"Um," she calls, clutching the towel to herself embarrassedly. "Tris. Can I
ask you for a favor?"
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Date: 2018-10-09 12:25 am (UTC)It's strange, being fully aware of the fact that she's totally undressed in Tris' bathroom and also very much not in a position to linger on it: it's definitely not aligning with some of the ideas Blue's had (scarcely allowed herself to consider, for a long time) about being undressed around Tris.
She finds herself thankful for the first aid kit; the gravel and dust comes off her arms and legs with not too much coaxing, but it reopens a lot of the scraping. A little voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother, or Calla maybe, reminds her to let it bleed, that bleeding serves a purpose, and she swears through it for a moment or two, turning the water to cold, before stepping out and finding the first aid kit.
It looks like it might bandage up an army's worth of field injuries -- of course it does. It's a little bit endearing, how thoroughly Tris is stocked, and Blue pulls out gauze and big bandages and tape and ponders things like antibiotic ointment. It's not terribly hard to pat her elbows and forearms dry and get them bandaided, her knees, to make executive decisions about scrapes that don't need covering, but as she twists to examine herself, her shoulder and hip where she skidded on the asphalt are raw and twisting to try and get everything proves impossible.
"Um," she calls, clutching the towel to herself embarrassedly. "Tris. Can I ask you for a favor?"