not_the_last (Cassandra de Rolo) (
not_the_last
) wrote
in
goodweather
2024-02-04 02:57 am (UTC)
no subject
The rage, when it comes, is cold but not stale; it blows through her like a blizzard wind, driving needles of ice before it.
"That vicious little vermin," she hears herself say, her voice shaking. "Oh, how dare he."
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"That vicious little vermin," she hears herself say, her voice shaking. "Oh, how dare he."