roslyakova
She caught his blond hair disappearing behind one of the bookshelves, and she immediately thought to herself that, no, she wouldn't back down. Not now. Inhaling silently, she could smell his scent mingled with that of old books', damp and heavy in the air. Keep going, keep going, she set her gaze ahead. Keep going, keep going... behind this shel--oh.
"Are you looking for me?"
Her breath hitched.
He likes to admire her in this time of day, when the sun is about to set and she is sitting there, on a chair by the open window. Her body is glowing, her hair liquid gold. And her eyes, her eyes that he carved from marbles and painted it green, stay hooded beneath her lashes, cold and empty and dead.
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sethaireyesbehindlikesadmiresunsittingchairopenwindowbodyglowingliquidgoldcarved