@graciieuse liked for a (late) Graffiti starter!
there is peace to be had sitting on a rooftop above the city.
everything seemed to be at a stand still. each drop of rain, each gentle gust of wind that would normally chill the silent artist to the bone was lost on her. it was almost like she was detached from the world below her, what with it’s flashing lights and gaudy signs advertising the luxuries that only few could afford.
it’s good that the sounds of the ambiance around her is lost on deafened ears, for it gives her enough time to scurry out of sight once she hears an aeroplane swoop down dangerously close to her rooftop. lena curled up on herself and watched from the darkness behind an air conditioning unit, glistening drops falling on her mask and restricting her vision as she tried to make out what person had managed to drop down from the ship, carrying themselves with purpose.
it’s not like she could just yell to her, anyways. what’s the point, when the woman strutting towards the end of the rooftop where she once sat carries a gun in one hand and a grappling hook in the other?
she’s almost too terrified to reveal herself, that in her state of fright, she does just that -- tipping over the rusted piece of equipment that she though was enough to hold her own weight, having it fall to the ground with a clang!
and she’s frozen, just like time has stopped for her again. no pain, not the moisture fogging up her vision, not the blood seeping through her leggings as her ankle gets caught on a rusted piece of metal.
in a fit of foolishness and horror, the girl reaches out towards the woman, squeaking a rasp of distressed noises bubbling from the back of her throat. a gun cocked, the violent gleam of red eyes staring at her in the dead of night -- and the brit could only watch as this woman, whether friend or foe, would choose to help her or not.
