<div style="text-align: center">《 Sou 》<br/>
Location: Dryden<br/>
Present: Carla <a class="username" data-user-id="288" data-username="Flannel King" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/288/">Flannel King</a> and Charles <a class="username" data-user-id="36" data-username="Sayd" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/36/">Sayd</a>​</div><br/><div class="bbImageWrapper bbImageAligned--left js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/attachments/transformed-jpg.131195/" title="Transformed.jpg">
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</div>Pain was a dull, barb-tongued companion. Sou tried to stay focused on moving. The woman was right; if they stayed still, they would die. She couldn't die. Her fans needed her.<br/><br/>Each time they moved it was just one step in front of the other. At times Sou wished that they would get attacked. At least she would have an end to the pain. It was too much. She couldn't remember the man's face completely, but she remembered his eyes and the way he smelled. The way he sounded. She remembered the way he inflicted these marks on her and the way his voice ebbed in and out of her consciousness.<br/><br/>The woman and the dog continued to guide Sou, and so she kept putting one foot in front of the other. Her lips were dried and cracked. She thought she might faint at times, and there were moments when she thought she was dreaming. It had to be a dream.<br/><br/>Carla's shrill whistle when they approached s walled-off property made Sou flinch hard. She clutched at her chest, whirling to see if there was danger nearby.<br/><br/>Sou felt like she was watching someone else's memories. The exchange of pleasantries were too 'normal' to be real. No one bantered like that anymore. Did they?<br/><br/>"I am a good person," she said when Carla said she wouldn't vouch for her. "They wanted to kill my spirit; but I'm blessed," Sou insisted. "I am<i>blessed</i>, and I need to pray."<br/><br/>She stood there, wounded, bleeding, and defiant as she looked from Charles to Carla and back again. "I need a priest," she said. "Find me someone who talks to God."