Croaked from the corner, by a figure slumped between building and stoop. Melys holds place with the dull, stubborn resolve of drunks everywhere.
Cheap paper curls about the edges of her eyes, peels up from her nose: Her mask bent at a strange angle to free the mouth (the pipe, the smoke) beneath. Once, it must have been something with teeth — difficult now to say, crumpled as it is; eaten by water, by wind, by incautious hands.
"Don't know that one none," A mumble, thickly-accented. "Sounds a storm."
What she means by this isn't any clearer than the rest.
late evening
Croaked from the corner, by a figure slumped between building and stoop. Melys holds place with the dull, stubborn resolve of drunks everywhere.
Cheap paper curls about the edges of her eyes, peels up from her nose: Her mask bent at a strange angle to free the mouth (the pipe, the smoke) beneath. Once, it must have been something with teeth — difficult now to say, crumpled as it is; eaten by water, by wind, by incautious hands.
"Don't know that one none," A mumble, thickly-accented. "Sounds a storm."
What she means by this isn't any clearer than the rest.