Devyn Rose
Life was fucking weird.
Devyn remained two steps behind the Doctor, hands raised palms-forward and looked liable to slip away at any given moment. Life was fucking weird and it was plain as day right there in her eyes —the discomfort at the unknown, the curiosity of the desperate, the palpable confusion of what was in front of her— gaze shuffling from form to form, taking in it all: tall, tiny, stout of shoulder, and squat of legs. She could feel herself spiraling into a hole of doubts and suspicions, but a familiar voice broke through the din.
Devyn smiled awkwardly at the introduction, cursing the nickname that was surely going to stick, and sent the Doctor a silent thanks.
The distraction from her thoughts— her fears —was exactly what she needed.
She replied to the blue creature in front of her, voice cracking. "It's n-nice to meet you too. Wh-um, what should I call... you...?" Devyn looked up and around at everyone gathered, "All of you, I mean."
She cleared her throat and looked to Ibra, who reminded her of Monsieur Evrard, though the latter was far, far past his prime. "I got here a week ago. Near abouts, I think. Mon-Monsieur Evrard might be able to give you exact dates... the fall made me sleepy, I guess, 'cause Evrard said I was asleep when he found me. Didn't wanna know for how long so I never did ask."
Glancing around the gathered peoples, she eyed the one she assumed was Ziv, the one who had died in front of the Doctor. Her gaze was soft and observant and decidedly noticeable, but all she did was give a small, shy smile if eye contact was made. The same could be said for the tiny, colorful being hovering about the unconscious one, though a wary coldness froze her in her steps when she took in the furious head stuck in the sand. Devyn took an involuntary step backwards, a brow rising in calculation.
I think I'll just play dead if that one comes after me.
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