☃ for my muses reaction to getting hit with a snowball thrown by your muse.
muse’s reaction ;; { ☃} getting hit with a snowball thrown by your muse.
SHE HAS A TRACK RECORD for violence that will not be easily shaken. Olivia’s temper is gasoline-infused and ready to explode in a moment’s notice; collateral damage be damned. ( This is, perhaps, one of her greatest issues. ) The woman has a knack for creating trouble where it could be avoided and sparking up quarrels that would surely threaten her very existence. Inheriting her mother’s temperament had been both a blessing and a curse. It’d get her killed one day, certainly.
This is Noah, however, and Noah is no threat.
She’s spitting snow out of her mouth ( she’s ninety percent sure it tastes like blood ) and dabbing at her face in a theatrical way – apparently the only way she knows how. Hazel gaze is narrowing and despite the freezing flakes of white surrounding them there’s a fire burning in her eyes, hot enough to melt the snow.
Oh, he is fucked. So fucked.
Laughter leaves her lips, caught somewhere between a scoffing challenge and disbelief, as she reaches down and begins forming a ball of snow in her hands. Olivia is easily angered, yes, but her need for fun is just as alive as her temper. She was a teacher, after all, and playing was part of that process ( whoever said childhood died after adolescence was wrong ). Besides, after all the shit they’ve been through, they could use a little entertainment. A little happiness, temporary as it may be.
“You’re dead to me, Ashbury.” The tough, white snowball slides out of her grip full-speed. Her aim is sure, steady – it collides with Noah’s face perfectly and when it does, a burst of laughter springs free from her mouth; warm, fuzzy and real.
This is nice, she thinks, this is good.
And, at the same time, wrong.
She does not deserve this, any of it. Not this fun. Not this boy. Not those lovely eyes of his looking at her as anything more than the monster she is.
Ah, but she is selfish, and she will seize this moment, this day, and keep it tucked in her pocket for the days when the darkness draws too near. He has always been a safe zone, after all. He has always been a goddamn beacon.
