muse: winter he (she/her), mid 20s, panromantic pansexual, interior design student & socialite
available verses: human & faerie
winter determined the world was tilting and adjusted accordingly. she could handle a little incline—it wasn't as though the laws of physics had ever successfully bullied her. the sidewalk did a funhouse wobble, though; her heels, already traitorous, threatened to resign every time she pivoted too sharply. someone's hand materialized at her elbow. not aggressive or grabby. just stabilizing weight. she tried to shake it, found it persistent, looked up, and blinked. she tried to smile, but her mouth forgot how. she settled for a squint. "fuck, you again," she cursed, "i don't need an escort. unless you want to get me food. or kill me."