He's under my skin- just give me something to be rid of him.
There is a broken former angel in the park. She's sitting on a bench near the pond with a small bag of old bread crusts in her lap that she's feeding to the ducks with no real sense of purpose other than it's something to do and it keeps her from staring vacantly out over the water in a way that suggests she's here and not here at the same time.
Luther sent her a message earlier and she was so scared by it that she took off running and this was just where she wound up. Some nice old man had seen her wandering through the park and had offered her his bag of bread crusts, because apparently she looked like she needed to feed the ducks and get her mind off her troubles. Really, she wishes it were that simple, but it's a distraction she can get behind.
Her mindset's been shifting between madness to something that isn't normal, but it isn't absolutely crazy either and today she's somewhere in the middle, which isn't really a comfort to her, but it ought to make anyone who feels the urge to talk to a poor girl feeding ducks and trying not to think of the danger that looms on the horizon a bit more comfortable.
Luther sent her a message earlier and she was so scared by it that she took off running and this was just where she wound up. Some nice old man had seen her wandering through the park and had offered her his bag of bread crusts, because apparently she looked like she needed to feed the ducks and get her mind off her troubles. Really, she wishes it were that simple, but it's a distraction she can get behind.
Her mindset's been shifting between madness to something that isn't normal, but it isn't absolutely crazy either and today she's somewhere in the middle, which isn't really a comfort to her, but it ought to make anyone who feels the urge to talk to a poor girl feeding ducks and trying not to think of the danger that looms on the horizon a bit more comfortable.