𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄, katarina was a free spirit. wild + untamed, a flash of red in the deep of night. volatile. someone with an itch to adventure. a hunger to fight, to feel, to bleed.
miss voracity was stuck at home.
this was usual, though unbeknownst to many. she kept up her mystique. (not as if anyone paid her any mind). katarina was what some would deem a recluse, socially or physically, it didn’t matter. she stayed at home all day some days. she never came back other days.
this house was a prison, and her status, shackles.
the size of the estate was all-consuming, it swallowed her up. it haunted the neighborhood. it stood tall, imposing, and famously empty. frozen in time, katarina relived every memory inside this home, over and over.
the knock causes her to freeze. her ears perk up. an abrupt rap of wide-set, clunky knuckles. definitely a man. large, clumsy. she knew who it was, and what he wanted.
she slowly rises out of her seat, placing her book face-down haphazardly. anger built in the steps leading to the door, and irritation did she use to open it.
“ darius, for the last time i --- “ her eyes open, and the hand nursing her brow finds its way back to her side. this was... not... darius.
“you.... “ her eyes are wide, and her neck adjusts to the height of the unsuspected blood brother. her lips part in a rare expression of surprise, one he’d probably never see again. “ what are you doing here? ” / @drorious
