@hellslight
The inability to speak beyond a whisper dampens even the best attempts at making a point. Miriam is a bit stuck here, troubled by a persistent individual who seems well misinformed on her own ability. The bandaging and her scratching voice have to do with a good deal of it, and she finds herself growing more and more frustrated as her hushed argument continues with someone she does not know.
“Damn it!” At her wits end, Miriam’s voice grows a touch louder, a squeak the most she can do as her hand slams against her leg. “Don’t you fucking get it. I am a god. Not a plant. So you can bug right off with all of that before I show you how god-like I can be. Leave your bullshit out of it.”
Her powers flash, a semi-intentional effort to prove her point. Spines and flowers, and the haze of neurotoxin that her flowers seem to generate at times. The stranger does no more than cough and sputter, Miriam on her toes to try and pull herself taller, despite being a near foot shorter. Thankfully, they skitter off, and she’s left with both the oleanders, and these new flowers, yellow and with no form found in a book. Something new.
“Does anyone else want to have this argument?” She rasps that bit out, a hand on her hip and the other waving away poison. A less than human stranger gets a raised brow. “Or are we done with that?”
