Yoshimi really isn't digging this experience. At all.
Ominous battlefields, fingers sticky with blood, discombobulated Dustins, disseminated crews - none of these are cool with her. Unfortunately for her (and everyone else involved), what she thinks doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Her discomfort is just one blip on the radar, both in her own brain and the joint mind of the entire crew. You know, because as far as she knows, everyone else is just as S.O.L. as she and the little clump of people around her are.
She blinks, wondering rather distantly where the hell Dustin slipped off too. Her woozy disorientation is evidence that if she keeps bleeding, pink-haired Yoshimi won't be on her feet much longer, much as she rues this fact. At least she's broken out of her nightmare...
"Well, that's just &*#$ing spiffy, that is," she mutters, not feeling up to much more than detached swearing.
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Ominous battlefields, fingers sticky with blood, discombobulated Dustins, disseminated crews - none of these are cool with her. Unfortunately for her (and everyone else involved), what she thinks doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. Her discomfort is just one blip on the radar, both in her own brain and the joint mind of the entire crew. You know, because as far as she knows, everyone else is just as S.O.L. as she and the little clump of people around her are.
She blinks, wondering rather distantly where the hell Dustin slipped off too. Her woozy disorientation is evidence that if she keeps bleeding, pink-haired Yoshimi won't be on her feet much longer, much as she rues this fact. At least she's broken out of her nightmare...
"Well, that's just &*#$ing spiffy, that is," she mutters, not feeling up to much more than detached swearing.