#asksophiehallow

{{...what if I came for the floor humping and insults, huh?}}

"Funny thing, eh? Call me Jones and might I say you—are—gorgeous.”

"Because the second you leave, you’ll be a target."

                                                                                                [ Not mine. ]

"Because as soon as my enemies find out you were associated with me, you’ll be sharkbait. And they’ll bite you and devour you, because of me. I can’t let that happen.” She grabbed her double’s forearm and pulled her back towards her. “The only way you’ll die because of me will be if I kill you. I won’t let some jealous rat to do it.” She smiled a bit, then got serious again. “Now, you either walk out that door and become a toy for their hounds or you stay at the party. There’s loads more to come, sister.”

Send me a ☠ and my muse will react to finding your muse dead.

       { Rope marks }

Strangled. Probably screaming for help. So human-like. Kicking around, already knowing she is not to get out of there, no matter how hard her legs hit the other, no matter how long her voice can last in the loud tone.

                                     { Bruises. }

Three on her shoulders. Two on each arm. Two, maybe three men to take out one girl. Pathetic. She had to admit that the girl wasn’t as weak as she had thought. One large one on the girls stomach. A packed punch right below her ribs.

                                                                { No sign of assault. }

No, no. These men weren’t after the girl’s beauty. They had a job to do, they cared not for what they could do before they killed her. And quite possibly, they didn’t bother to torture Sophie for information, because they already know e v e r y t h i n g. And that was terrifying.

  { Assassins flee, their cowardly employers enjoy the party. }

For one soul purpose, this girl was murdered. As an invitation for Poison to come and face the demons following her every step, the obssessed maniacs who wanted to caged goddess forced upon her knees.

 { Cut off the head. Cut out the heart. Drink the blood and become her son. }

It was a game she was ready to play, because she had very few people in her life, who could hear her name and not tremble in fear or anger. Fascinating. The ease of ending a human life. She heard they could die from a broken heart. What idiotsy.

She didn’t move from that body for what seemed days. Her face stained with the plague of not feeling a thing, of not being able to scream

                        [ I will avenge you. ]

Because she knew as much as she’d like to fool herself into believing that she’ll kill those who did this for Sophie, she knew it’d be a lie. Because everything she does, she does for herself and herself only. No matter if they were friends. 

Her hand gently waved over the dead girl and turned her skin glowing, bruises healed, marks never to be existing. She looked like she was sleeping, but she didn’t have that rosy smile on her lips; it was more of a nightmare than a quiet slumber.

And she sat there. No matter how hard she tried, her hands remained on those stone cold ones; she tried to stand up and find who did this; finish this wicked game; but she couldn’t.

It was hot.

It was hot as dicks.

Riley padded around her apartment, three fans blowing, tugging at the shoulder strap of her skimpiest tank top and wished for winter to arrive already. She wasn't yet to the point of wanting to climb into her fridge, but it was getting close.

She'd even propped her front door open to encourage some air movement. This was horrible.

Ten minutes later, she was dumping what was left of her plain sugar into a pitcher of lemonade - and all of the ice from the freezer. She stirred and then took an experimental sip. The near-freezing liquid went down her throat and she thanked the gods of cold drinks. She was rummaging around for a straw to drink the whole pitcher herself when she noticed Sophie walking past.