† 019.

[chrysophilist]

[she looks agitated. she's pulling one one of her braids, and her lips are pressed into a tight line. she opens her mouth to say something, and then something seems to catch the corner of her eye. in a split second, a dagger is in her hand and she's whirling around, slicing at... nothing. with a little grunt, she sheathes the weapon and faces the camera again.

fear is in her eyes.]

This isn't funny. And I'm going to punch whoever thinks it is.