Location: The Morgue Time: Post-Vigil. Status: Closed ( @s-terlingsilva )
Beaux hoped that one of these days, she could exist for five minutes without being worried about something. Maybe she deserved it, though. She could hardly qualify as a good person. Maybe she would be doomed to a life of awful, gut-wrenching anxiety.
She makes her way up from the basement, tired legs carrying her up flight after flight of stairs. Why did Silva have to live so high up? Because the world hated her, clearly. For hours, all she had wanted to do was see the other girl. Silva, steady and beautiful and grounding.(Pathetic. Start being braver. She tried to ignore the voice in her head.)
Her forehead finds itself plonked against the heavy wood of her door when she reaches it. Silva would know if she was freaking out too hard. Silva always knew. Her first knocks before she’s fully pulled her head away, two heavy raps.
“Its me.” She says, almost uselessly. No one else usually bothers with knocking. “Can I come in?”