#(abel | interactions)

“I think the point of a masquerade ball is to be unrecognisable. It’s obvious who you are from a hundred feet away, Nilsen.” Abel spoke as if Freya were the only one in town who rocked an absolutely absurd hairdo - pink liberty spikes or something of the sort. But as he spoke, he reached for a singular curl that always seemed to spin inwards instead of out. Opposite of the rest of Freya’s occasionally unruly waves that always stood out in his line of sight, reaching to give the unique locks a gentle tug.