[ alexia ashford ]

_{Her confidant. An unexpected confirmation from the physicist, but one that cause greyed lips to curl and crack as golden eyes shifted to focus on her present company.  ”Ah - ‘tis a symptom of the virus. It mutates the host - those who have not had sufficient time to adapt - into monstrous creatures. Regarding myself, there are three forms of mutation. This is simply the first - a preferred one of mine, when compared to the other two, though the power increases with each new stage.”} 

_{Even now, the metal casing of the bullets that had strayed into flesh were luminescent, heated in the walls of her skin and glowing a vibrant orange against the monotone colours of her form. “I assure you, there is nothing to worry about, Rosalind. There is something…liberating, about this form.” The spindly branches once slender fingers gestured to sit beside her.} 

    _{Brows incidentally found themselves knotted. Although there was assurance, the redhead found herself considerably anxious since this state, despite being robust by her standards, would be operated for nothing other than demolition. One could only wonder the tiers that were involved in this said mutation and whether that same level of sanity found in her regularly had remained conscious in these unnatural archetypes.} 

     _{"I could only imagine what that must be like.“ Partially implying the the most evident aspect to her being; the lack of dress. Concealed in these words had been her own yearning to sever herself from an origin that would remained unnamed as of now. Deliverance had been granted in their dissolution, but Logos thirsted for more. "I would be most somber if the odds aren’t in your favor, dear Alexia.” Acceding in this gesture, Lutece approaches with hues concentrated along the dim illumination provided by attempted carnage.}