[Well, the outfit on this person is a bit distinctive - they've always worn quite a few layers, maybe because it was necessary back home, maybe because it's smart to not go around in flimsy clothing, maybe just because they find it familiar. Despite the layers, however, it looks like their left sleeve has been pushed up well above the elbow, and the spreading pool of blood has been spilling out from the deep cut on their arm.
And there's a knife in their right hand where it's set on top of the bar.
The person's face is turned away from the doorway, but she seems peaceful enough where she's flopped over onto the bar, as far as her expression goes; she's still warm, but that will begin to fade quickly enough. Even as the warmth and her general color fades, however, certain things remain vibrant - the bright red of her hair, for example.
Just the same, she isn't breathing, and she doesn't stir when approached or seem aware that anyone is there. Still-present warmth aside, there's only one conclusion to be made.
no subject
And there's a knife in their right hand where it's set on top of the bar.
The person's face is turned away from the doorway, but she seems peaceful enough where she's flopped over onto the bar, as far as her expression goes; she's still warm, but that will begin to fade quickly enough. Even as the warmth and her general color fades, however, certain things remain vibrant - the bright red of her hair, for example.
Just the same, she isn't breathing, and she doesn't stir when approached or seem aware that anyone is there. Still-present warmth aside, there's only one conclusion to be made.
Sigrun Eide is dead.]