tell me what you know.
sooo demanding. 🪞｡˚ ↬ 𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍. * 𓂃 ࣪ ˖ ➷ ❪ closed ❫ @devilbody
"Now whhhyyy would I do ever do that?"
In this episode of The Peppermint Girl, Manhattan sets the scene for a newcomer in town: they’re skinny, but strong, willow angles, and long, and whittled with tear troughs deep as the 191st Street subway station on the 1 line, and a foul scowl to match, too. And you know what else is red, just like the 1 line? Their eyes — chanting some rhythm of anger and fever Adella finds so utterly misplaced — and, also, the pretty line of blood they’ve drawn artfully across the succubus’ neck. These things are bound to happen, when knives sit flush against the skin.
Stay tuned for what happens next.
Her heel — four inches too long, sharp as the peppermint cane stems she likes to suck between her teeth — digs deep into their leg. How good of the Winchester to find the rare quiet alleyway in a city that never sleeps. Clever thing.
Adelaide spits a mouthful of blood, rendered from somewhere deep in her throat after their not-so-civil exchange, straight into their face. She’s not being rude; there’s nowhere else to put it, you see, since her range of motion’s been reduced to near-nothing.
“That’s not fun for me, or you.” She laughs, straining beneath their grip. “And I’d like to have just a little more fun the few minutes before you kill me. I deserve that much, at least. I’ve had such a bad life.”
Her heel twists just a liiiittle deeper.
“Come ooon, don’t be so boring. Don’t you want to hear my evil monologue first? Or answer my riddles three to find your dead friend?”
