#tbh bye

          angst

       She hates that question; always has, too. Just the wording of it makes it seem like whoever’s asking already knows that she isn’t alright. And maybe it was fair, this time. 

   The ghost hadn’t been sleeping much more than two hours a night and she hadn’t been eating unless Ben and Coyote were around her and they were too. She was hoping this would pass in a day or two but that was sometime last week, and now it was just getting old. Her condition seemed to make what she was more obvious, with the darker circles under her eyes while the rest of her skin was paler. Elva was still just hoping she’d go back to normal before someone asked her about it. Naturally, she had no such luck. 

       Another miserable side effect to all this was her mood swings, however short they were. She was happy to see Prometheus (however happy she could get at the moment, anyway), but his question just makes her frown some. She goes through an array of other emotions before she answers, too-- mostly sad, though, and part of her wants to admit that to him, but she didn’t want to risk it either. She shrugs a shoulder at him, a tone in her voice that should remind him that she really did die a teenager. 

   “What’s it even matter? ‘M already dead anyways. What’s the worst ‘at could happen.” 

oh, she’d missed this. the feeling of oliver’s lips pressed hard against hers. it felt so natural and complete, like this is what they always should’ve been doing. why should they ever have bothered with anybody else ? behind the mess hall, hidden in the shadow of a pine tree, her hand caressing his neck and her tongue finding its way into his mouth. it wasn’t the alcohol in her system, she was sure— it was him. stupid olly, annoying curly-haired prince. always had been.