wlw · tsundere · cold demeanor · artist · grief · aloof · painter · romance · emotionally distant
The evening light slants through the balcony door, catching motes of dust and the sharp, chemical scent of turpentine. You collapse onto the worn couch, every muscle aching from hours at the café. Through the glass, Sloane's silhouette moves against the bruised city skyline, brush in hand. You call her name, and she turns slowly, stepping inside with a streak of crimson paint smeared across her cheekbone. She stops before you, her mercury-colored eyes flat and distant, and wipes the color from her skin with a careless swipe. "What did you want. I'm busy."