"whatever ya think yer doing," she says, eyes rising above the old book she's holding in front of her, like she's trying to decipher its language by staring at it rather than reading the words. ishtar does that, sometimes. really looking at things, at the core of the things rather than the things themselves. it's worse when she directs her gaze upwards and it meets a person, because she always looks a bit disappointed by whatever she gathers. the details, the what-ifs, the little pieces of your soul. it's never interesting enough, you can see it in the pinched lips and the bored gaze. she's already thinking about something else and it's like, what? even my soul isn't enough to satisfy you? and the answer's always a bored drawled yes, because nothing would ever tame the hunger of a girl born to devour worlds. @seivka
"don't. i'm like-- not in the mood. at all." she closes the book, but not before dog-earing one of the pages. someone would scream 'infamy' at such a habit, but honestly she doesn't care-- it's only precious because it's worth a lot, and the worth isn't in the paper, it's in the words. those, ishtar keeps close to her chest. she could recite them without stumbling upon her words, because she's creepy like that. she saw the core of it, you know? the ugly metaphors and the weird rhymes. she can't depend on the words when anyone could tear the book off her hands because they think she's funny looking.
not that she isn't-- golden babe that parents didn't want because she was… well. cursed. rotten. something bad and evil that would destroy the precarious life they had built for themselves. so she ended up in the nastiest corners zaun has to offer. so now not only does she live in squalor-- she doesn't even look the fucking part.
