from the looks of it, she doesn’t belong; coals instead of eyes and shadows are permanent right under as if sleep is but another foe to battle, scars are riddling her skin. unlike her brother, she’s restless ——— the idea to go and drink alone ( fine! don’t need your boring ass anyway. ) backfires. even if the hummed tune between her lips is oh so pleasant, and waves of dark hair braided in a crown ——— there is a pair of horns, and where there are horns, there’s bloodlust. even so. here was still better than anything they met behind the kingdom’s gates.
the door opens and light gets in. she turns her head, mouth opens in an invitation ——— yes, please. a familiar, friendly face. a friend. almost. something like that.
she reaches out, each finger decorated in writings and rings, and tugs at his sleeve. “ Alwaro————I know you won’t let a girl drink alone. —— unlike someone’s wretched brother. ”
@songinspire