date: 21/01/21 location: elite boxing gym availability: unavailable for @geniie
Within this crowd, they’re all one and the same - here for the same purpose, desperate for the winning result. Priscilla had placed her bets, drank away a dry throat and conversed with a few who sought to greet her. Each conversation held little substance but formalities were a necessity to invoke some sense of feeling from others. Whether to be feared or enjoyed, one would first have to know you existed. It was often why Priscilla selected her words meticulously when in contact with strangers - she sought for both Famine and War to dread her very existence. When she wreathes between those enthralled by the violence, she’s stood at the furthest stretch of the room when she sees her: Pestilence’s own little thief. A girl Priscilla longed to nurture into equal parts cruel and twisted. It is only then does she smile something wicked, moving across the room to accompany her. "Our little wraith,” she greets, her voice as sly as the chattering of fox teeth. “Had any difficulties - or, better yet, pinched anything of interest?”