#* random

@duskstarts​

It was the first time in a very long time that she could remember feeling so helpless. Ironic, since she’d been dead for years, and had never so much as held a glass in her hand. Why now, did she care so much? And with such fervor? 

The shop was all but abandoned. Or was it a café? Sabine paid little mind. For now, she was focused on the dirty glass before her, sat on a shaky table of equal merit. “Come on you son of a b--” she swung at the glass, her limbs trembling, but once more her efforts had been in vain. The glass didn’t so much as budge, nor could she feel it’s unforgiving cold against her skin.