@desiir ❝ mischief, me? oh please! ❞ for delirium
A shake of her head, the distressed Endless wound fingers into her hair and pulled as she shakes her head.
“I’m not a part of your mischief-ness-esses…”
Something is wrong, who knows what it is, could be that the sky is the wrong colour because she has misremembered it, or the world is ending, it all seems to elicit the same level of response from her. “No…” no she was not and she was very insistent upon it this time around.
Her her hands come from her hair down her face, she enjoys the cold against the warmth of her skin as she attempts to solidify thoughts but the racing tide that is her mind grabs at them again so violently that even the wispy multicoloured aura around her shifts and is torn off, disappearing off into the air.
“I didn’t do it-”
