Fighting in a war I only know exists

[OoC: a few days after September 17, 2019]

Pissed. Smashed. Blitzed. Maudlin. Sauced. Whatever you wanted to call it, Tilly was absolutely, disgustingly drunk on the beach. Crushed cans scattered around the sand at the back of her open van doors as sad ska music played through speakers struggling and popping to keep up with the bass and the volume.

Tilly, for her part, was barely conscious. Covered in bites and scratches and enough sand that her hair color was hidden. Lying on her back in the sand, sobbing quietly. Why had that impeccable jackass told her that someone could help her? Why had he given her fuckin hope?

The gemstone in her chest thrummed quietly, indistinguishable from a heartbeat to anyone who could hear it. But in the relative dark of the night, the glow it gave off could be seen through her thin undershirt and skin; a faint blue circle of light.

Tilly didn't notice Ília's approach, too lost in her own pain and drunkenness than to hear the quiet footsteps in the dark. But when the other girl spoke up, Tilly's body went into self defense mode.

Scrambling backwards, she gripped her hand around thin air and stared dizzily at the girl in front of her. Her face was twisted into something like a scowl, a string of profanities ready to be unleashed from her lips. But as her vision cleared slightly, she saw that the individual in front of her wasn't another monster, but just a girl.

"Wot're ye doin' way out here, lass?" Tilly wiped her eyes, only vaguely aware of the tears that were staining her face. "Didn't figure anybody'd be out this far this late."

"Open me mind... lass yer touched in the head, ain't ya?" Tilly tried to stand, but the sudden sharp jab of pain told her that she had cracked a rib fighting off the monsters earlier. She gritted her teeth and just resigned herself to sitting on the sand, propped up on her hands.

She didn't mean to start talking. But she had spent her whole life bottling all of this up and she didn't think she could take it anymore.

"He took everything from me. Fuckin bastard told me I'd be a hero, but he lied. The cunt lied to me and I lost everything. And it ain't ever gonna stop until the fuckers finally kill me." She choked and blubbered over the words, her tears starting to well up and spill down onto her cheeks once again.

Tilly scrubbed and scratched at her face, sniffling hard and trying to rein in her tears to no effect. She opened her mouth to speak but found that she didn't know what to say. Thinking was hard.

When she opened her mouth again, she just shook her head in a tired, resigned fashion. "I'll patch up eventually, but I ain't gonna say no if yer offerin'." Tilly rolled forward slightly onto her side, leaning away from her injured ribs.

"Who t' fuck even are ye?"

Tilly, for her part, was starting to feel better already. She had basically always healed faster than other kids, but it hadn't ever been this fast. She kinda liked it. Pretty soon her cracked rib was just a bruise and she could stand properly.

Dusting excess sand off of herself, she looked Serena over with a pierced eyebro raised incredulously. "Uh huh. Yer one o' them hippie, free love types, yeah?"

Strangely, she also felt less drunk. Which was annoying, but also better. At least she could start driving sooner and get back to work. Looking around at the carnage that she knew the other girl couldn't see, Tilly's nose wrinkled a bit and she started picking up the cans littering the beach. She could maybe get some spare change if she recycled them. She picked back up talking though as she went.

"Figure ye ain't ne'er seen shite like mine though. Nobody else in t' world's gotten the reaming I 'ave."