The chill is eternal, here. It takes the breath from her lungs and pushes her forward. Arsenic wouldn't let it become her, even if she's tempted. No, she needed the distraction. Needed to remind herself what it feels like to be alive. All stinging and gnawing, a biting that sinks down straight into her system. Fuck, how she loathes the cold. Raised to the Badlands and their sands, the vastness of the desert, all of it. Autumn isn't for her, and to think, winter would come after it. If all that was the case, why couldn't she bring herself to go straight home? Instead, she'd made landfall in the Commons, where only the worst could happen.
Pale and spotted, she can see him. See him leering, the bile rising in the back of her throat. Acrid and burning, just like the rest of her. Arsenic had been told, once, of how her mother had encountered her father here. Unlucky for everyone, she'd inherited none of the woman's graces. No, there's something far worse about her. A sneer pulling at her upper lip, all but prepared to spit at him.
Holding her ground, Arsenic's ears pin to her skull. "Fucking freak." Taking a step behind a narrow tree at the last possible moment, if he doesn't stop fast enough it's his own damn fault. "You have a staring problem, you won't use your words-- could you be more of a waste of space?" A roll of her eyes, Arsenic is nothing if chronically unserious.
we’re dressed in black from head to toe
|