' Carolina, ' it's spoken quickly, the syllables jumping with a nervousness that's not suitable for her. ' please-i just want to /talk/, there's something i need to tell you-' it hurts to see hatred in green eyes. hurts so much that she wants to die.
❝ — what?! ❞
it’s a snap comparable to the break of a branch, broken off by the sinister crackling of lightning. and following it is a burst of anger, loud and audible but felt within the inner workings of bones. her eyes aren’t blue -- they’re not pale and white like the furious appearance of lightning, but there’s a fierceness in such hues that the piercing look resonates nothing but pure fear. she is a storm encased in verdigris, and the long locks of blood flowing forth from her hair add nothing but horror in such an image.
the way texas speaks hurts, too, in its own way -- haunting, if carolina were to think about it later on. it’s reminiscent of something, someone, but she can’t tell what -- all it is is haunting, unreal, impossible. she breathes heavily, staring long and hard at a yellow visor, behind which she doesn’t know. and she doesn’t want to know -- it’s cheap, its basic, but she’d rather not see what humanity lied beneath the charcoal encasement. and she’s not sure if it’s because she thinks it’s easier that way, or because she’s afraid to.
with a shaky voice, lips parted in forced apathy, peridot irises disappearing between narrowed eyelids, she snarls, uneven teeth digging into roughened lips.
❝ what could you possibly say that i’d be fucking interested in hearing? because let me fucking tell you right now, agent texas, i have heard nothing but blatant bullshit and insults since you came and i am so - i’m -- tired. ❞
