darkness i became

     an eyebrow is ARCHED PERFECTLY behind circular frames , as she fiddles with the split ends of her hair that is pulled into two , low pigtails. she just wants to go HOME , so when the other approaches , she does everything she can not to freeze up. ( she’s never been good with talking to STRANGERS , let alone those who approach at the early hours of the morning — really , do they have a DEATH WISH? she could’ve — well , she could’ve accidentally hurt them ; it’s not all too big of a stretch. )

       an audible sigh escapes her lips. at least he wasn’t asking for something CRUDE like most men she has encountered on her way home. eyes flicker up towards the BAR FRONT of pike’s poison , and for a moment , she considers turning away. but she doesn’t. she wills her scampering heart to still , and smiles up towards the OTHER ( since she only reaches an ASTOUNDING four feet & eleven inches ; i know , she’s not all too proud of it either ) , brushing fly away hairs out of her face.

         “ —i can definitely help you , but don’t you think it’s a bit LATE to be going to the park? “ eyebrows knit together in something like WORRY as she examines his features , gauging for some kind of reaction. 

        IT’S DEFINITELY LATE,  but there’s something nice about the outdoors at night,  especially after all the time he’s spent without a home.   while arber’s place is comfortable, and,  in truth,  a blessing,  he’s still used to being outside.

        the warlock gives a quick nod,  understanding where she’s coming from.   it is late,  now that he thinks of it,  though he hasn’t been paying attention to the time whatsoever up until this point  ---  and he’ll likely forget all about it momentarily.    “ um,  uh---  p-probably?   but the moon looks...  looks nice tonight.   very bright. ”

I just want to be an orphan right now….or drunk. I’ll take drunk first, wishing murder is kind of….dark, right?

        EVERY WEEK IS A CONSTANT.   for you,  nothing ever changes;  if it did,  you’re not sure you’d know what to do.   today is sunday,  and so your grandparents take you to church.    ( you haven’t been out of the house since last week.   you’re only allowed to leave on sundays,  and never alone. )    you know what’s coming,  and you’ve resigned yourself to your fate  ——  not because you think you can’t get free,  but because you don’t know freedom is a concept.

        when the van stops,  you stay in your seat until someone comes around to get you,  and only then do you move.   you step from the car,  head bowed,  and take care not to look at a single person.    ( you’ve made the mistake before.   the time below is longer if you do. )    it’s not as though you’d see a face if you did look up,  though;  they’ve all worn masks since you became old enough to describe them.

        THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT is not the best time to be wandering this city.   though he knows it well,  that familiarity is from the perspective of rooftops and catwalks,  not at ground level.   it should come as no surprise that he finds himself lost just after two in the morning,  when partygoers are still hopping from bar to bar and danger lurks in the shadows.   it’s with extreme reluctance that he approaches a stranger,  tentative and hanging back so he can run at a moment’s notice.

        ( it’s to his benefit that it’s dark and his hair’s a mess.                 the other might not see the small horns protruding from the top of his head. )

        “ hi,  um---  hi.   sorry to,  uh,  bother you,  but uh---  sorry,  uh---  do you know how to,  um,  get to the...  the park?   merryweather park? ”