Oh, these? [ one black claw goes to scratch lightly over one of the lesions--and then pick at it, at the skin around it, as if trying to pry a hangnail. ] This is a little... hm.

I'm sick, amica. Not to worry, it's a blood-borne illness. As long as you don't start licking my open wounds, you shouldn't catch it. One day these rocks will cover the all of me, but surely you won't be around to see it.

Maybe a good reminder to live life to the fullest while you still can. Eat well, play well, fuck well. [ a baring of her teeth, a beast's smile, a dying beast's creed. ]