(no subject)
The young girl, though grubby and wearing clothes that have seen better decades, let alone years, looks around with a defiant expression. She doesn't know where she is, but she's never let the little details get in the way of her personal narrative.
She walks over to the side, and for a moment, her face breaks into a wide smile as she stares out at the ocean, and the young girl she's never been might be glimpsed.
She turns back, one hand gripping at the rail behind her, the other unconsciously scrubbing at a spot which she was sure was hurting her only a moment ago, and stares out at her surroundings again.
She won't say anything, not yet. Why, what benefit would there be in that?
Typist: Eponine, from Les Miserables
She walks over to the side, and for a moment, her face breaks into a wide smile as she stares out at the ocean, and the young girl she's never been might be glimpsed.
She turns back, one hand gripping at the rail behind her, the other unconsciously scrubbing at a spot which she was sure was hurting her only a moment ago, and stares out at her surroundings again.
She won't say anything, not yet. Why, what benefit would there be in that?
Typist: Eponine, from Les Miserables