[Caitlyn kneels and sifts through the paper, scowling when she sees a half-burned photograph of herself.
She finds a small, twisted piece of metal, shaped into something resembling a butterfly's wing and painted garish green and purple.]
Her design. She set off the bombs that did this. And the. [She can barely force herself to look at the dead bodies.] I don't think they've been dead for very long. [Some of them are still bleeding fresh blood.]
no subject
She finds a small, twisted piece of metal, shaped into something resembling a butterfly's wing and painted garish green and purple.]
Her design. She set off the bombs that did this. And the. [She can barely force herself to look at the dead bodies.] I don't think they've been dead for very long. [Some of them are still bleeding fresh blood.]