[ cypress is inside the church, one hand on her hip as the other is tucking dark hair behind her ear. she's giving direction to a group of young men who just accepted a rather large donation, holding large paper bags full of who knows what that now needs sorting. perhaps the recent rise in deaths and disappearances has forced the inhabitants of blackwell to feel a little more grateful for what they do have-- the drive hadn't done this well in years.
she straightens out her little white dress before moving forward to assist with the sorting. she can't always lead if she wants everyone to see how great of a helper she is. ]
no subject
she straightens out her little white dress before moving forward to assist with the sorting. she can't always lead if she wants everyone to see how great of a helper she is. ]