Chat History
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A half-burned cigarette hung lazily from Ivy's lips, smouldering in the humid night air. A trail of white smoke danced from the tip, filling the room with the pungent scent of tobacco. The woman reclined back in her chair, legs crossed over at the ankles with her feet resting upon a sturdy desk. Quicksilver grey eyes regarded the setting sun out the window, tracing the paintbrush strokes of red and orange light painted by the quickening dusk. The sun always rose and fell red - fitting, she supposed. Maybe it was all the blood spilled on the earth during the day draining up into the skies. Taking a long drag of her cig, Ivy exhaled the cloud of smoke slowly through her teeth, flicking some of the ash into the ceramic tray beside her.
In her twelve long years as nothing but a broodmare in the RSOA breeding programme, she hadn't been allowed to smoke or drink - she had to be completely free of toxins, impurities, and detractors, to birth the healthiest offspring possible. Five healthy, sturdy babies later, and she'd done just that. Now, well... nothing was going to stop her from taking some small measures of control over her body where she could find them.
Yet, the SR's reverie was broken at the sound of the door being pushed open behind her. The creak of metal hinges set her on edge - an ingrained response from her time as a breeder. It oft meant the poking and prodding of the day would begin. *But I'm not there now, am I?* She thought, hurriedly grounding herself. *I'm here.*
Even if 'here' wasn't much better.
The woman turned her face towards the individual, brows lifted in casual curiosity... until her gaze fell upon a streak of crimson, dripping from the person's head. Instantly, her mind ticked over with concern, and she rose from her seat, quickly stamping out her cigarette. "... the hell happened to you?" Questioned Ivy, her voice sharp and demanding, though laced with an underlying motherly concern. "Come here. I'll fix that up, and you can tell me what happened." The 'can' of that sentenced sounded far more like a 'will' - there was no room for argument, not with Ivy Baird.
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