[38] lose your mind

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┌─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───┐
chapter thirty-eight!
LOSE YOUR MIND
└─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───┘


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IT'S DARK WHEN SHE gets the call.

Well, actually, several calls. Vera is in the shower when she hears her phone vibrate on the counter near the sink, momentarily interrupting the music she'd been listening to. She frowns with her hands buried into her shampoo-coated hair and stops mid-high-note once the song cuts off. At first, she wonders if her phone had died, but then she detects the faint sound of it buzzing against the counter and realizes someone's trying to call her.

That someone is going to have to wait. Vera has had a very hard time relaxing while concussed and dealing with the knowledge that, according to the scroll they'd recovered from Katashi's silver finger, one method of exorcizing a Nogitsune is to change the host. Meaning he'd have to be bitten by a werewolf.

All of the stress from this situation has left her in dire need of self-care. So, she'd chosen tonight to take a very long, hot shower where she actually shaves her entire legs instead of stopping at her knee, uses a sugar scrub, and belts out some of her favorite songs from her playlist. Her skin has already blushed a faint pink where the scalding water has rained down on it the longest. Steam curls around the small bathroom, fogging the mirror above the sink and her glasses, which sit beside her phone.

After this, she's planning on applying a face mask that Dominic's sister Vanessa had gifted her, curling up in bed with Hades, and watching 13 Going on 30. Maybe she'll even paint her nails if she feels like it. God knows she needs just one night to feel like a regular teenage girl.

The call goes to voicemail, allowing her music to pick up where it left off. Vera continues her terrible singing (seriously, she's surprised Mai hasn't demanded that she stop yet) as she rinses the shampoo from her hair.

Then her phone rings again.

This time, she's mildly irritated, but once again, waits it out until the music returns. It doesn't even last for more than a few seconds before it's interrupted by a third call.

"Por el amor de Dios, ¿quién es ese?" Vera mutters to herself as she yanks the shower curtain aside, squinting at her lit-up phone screen as she struggles to read the caller ID without her glasses. She quickly realizes that she's only going to make her head hurt again by straining her eyes, and the last thing she wants is to make her concussion worse, so she gives up and returns to her shower routine.

The person — or people, considering she has no idea if her entire friend group is calling her or just one of them — calls her eight more times. Most people may have gotten out and answered, but most people aren't as stubborn as Vera. She refuses to let this cut into her shower. If someone is dying, they can wait until she finishes shaving her underarms.

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