Two feet paced in time to the slow drip of IV fluid. Pit a pat. The sluggish mechanisms in a circuit closed to the world, functioning oblivious. Aimless even, as the blank gaze from a snowy white face through a tangle of long wet hair. The figure, who was barely a shadow, made the slow decent along the cracked sidewalk cloistered between intersection traffic and the precariously perched establishment that molded the queues of cars around its facade.
Clammy pale hands practically glowed in the light of passing cars, drawn tight to the body, small and female. She was Yoo Shiah, and she was cold. It had been no mistake but merely the result of shortsightedness, that she had not worn a jacket. A thin, loose and illfitted teal hoodie clung around her shoulders, sticking to her stomach and her arms which were wrapped so tightly around her middle in vain promise of warmth. The hem extended past the cuffs of worn whitewashed shorts that were far from acceptable in this weather.Â
Shiah was lost, but the revelation did not seem to occur in spite of it all.
From where she had been walking or for how long, was truly anyone’s guess. It had only been noon then, the crisp kind of light that to any regular person would have been seen as pleasant. But shiah was not a regular person. Nor was she a person at all. Yet she was not exempt from the elements in this body; The supposed perk of her enlistment. Some perk, she had often chided, for all the good that having a body did. It always needed something.
Blue tinged lips and blue veins stood out from her chalky palor. Her waifish frame shuddering almost as often as her lower lip quivered. The feeling was certainly not a pleasant one, yet somehow the demon couldn’t find the motivation to do anything about it. In the halo of a streetlamp she was finally made to stop, her cheap black sneakers standing in a puddle as she waited for the light to change. Water filled the soles, colder and colder still her sockless feet gave in to the chills that radiated up her bare legs. To her left a second light source had cast a shadow on her features, a cafe of some sort whose patrons were huddled in the warmth of comfortable chairs or in the cup of coffee clasped in their hands.
Shiah looked through the shop front window, responding more to the presence of light than the possibility of shelter. There were humans in there. Her empty expression did not match the disdain she felt for them. She never liked them, these creatures. In fact, one could have drawn the conclusion that it was the nature of a human that she detested. They were living, breathing, striving. somehow their energy was enough to repulse she, whose very nature opposed them.Â
“Useless...” she mouthed to herself, line of sight passing over each individual from couples and groups gathered in conversation with smiles upon their faces, to the lone figures lost in the artificial glow of a laptop’s screen. Why did they bother to leave their homes if they were simply coming to sit in another building? What was wrong with them?
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