[perhaps the tainted water recognizes her vileblood as something akin to itself, perhaps it's chance, but the corruption doesn't stick - not with an open wound, not even when she's bleeding into it , a spill of foul floral scent amidst the rot as she tries to right herself, her hand reaching up and out of the water to brush ...something.
it brushes again as she turns, pushing off slime and sediment with her feet - her head bursting through the oily surface at last, cheek numb with her own blood, eyes still closed, but having enough sense to recognize rope (or a very sturdy vine?) when she closes her hand on it.
then she hears his voice. lance? she tries to call out, but she's nothing but coughs - any sort of acknowledgement has to wait until that's over - until the rest of this water is out of her, but she's able to rise up and grasp her other hand, too.]
no subject
it brushes again as she turns, pushing off slime and sediment with her feet - her head bursting through the oily surface at last, cheek numb with her own blood, eyes still closed, but having enough sense to recognize rope (or a very sturdy vine?) when she closes her hand on it.
then she hears his voice. lance? she tries to call out, but she's nothing but coughs - any sort of acknowledgement has to wait until that's over - until the rest of this water is out of her, but she's able to rise up and grasp her other hand, too.]