the whirlwind lifts you up to the ceiling
#9
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She shrugged. “I’ve nothing better to do,” she responded to his initial asking of her to accompany him, though she shot him a queer look at his next amounts of rambling. The sheer mention of the word ‘rape’ was quite like saying ‘bomb’ on a plane, but she didn’t pay it no mind. Some might, but she, quite plainly, didn’t see the need. Even when sick, she was more formidable with the knife that was hanging at her hip than anyone else she had seen floating around this area. “No, I’m fine. Let’s get going, if it is so urgent. Maybe you shouldn’t go wandering out into daytime anymore, if it really hurts you so much.” She caught up to him, frowning. “Besides, we’ll probably need those eyes of yours to try and find wherever your little cave thingy is.” Her voice was just as sarcastic as normal, though she was quite sympathetic for his plight. She wouldn’t know what she’d do if she couldn’t go out in sunlight anymore, just due to her eyes.



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