( a startled dog will snap at its own shadow, once it's cornered into a cage. ani reacts with the same instincts of a street mutt, watching a stranger barrel headfirst toward her, intentions unknown to her — a snap-decision of fight-or-flight firmly lands on fight. bearing her teeth, she shoves, a surprising athletic weight behind it. not that it's needed — this twink is built like a fucking twig, easy to snap over a knee. nothing as brutish as zakharov's goons, or a client's liquored up god complex right before he gets handsy. )
Don't fuckin' touch me!
( rubbernecking heads snap toward her shrill cry, raw with hysteria, jagged as a splinter of glass. shaky from the anticipation of a fight, ani pushes at the body in front of her again for good measure, a poor outlet for the sudden stab of furious humiliation that guts her, feeling the beady little eyes of judgment aimed their way. his fault for shining a spotlight on her, making her mental fucking breakdown the star of the show, brought to center stage. she sniffles and swipes at her blotchy nose, the teary snot that wants to flow out, wild, dilated pupils glittering like the point of a knife. at her sides, her fists clench until the bones in her knuckles cramp, as if waiting for an excuse to land another hit. )
The fuck is wrong with you? ( spitting, king-cobra venom: ) Mind your own goddamn business.
no subject
Don't fuckin' touch me!
( rubbernecking heads snap toward her shrill cry, raw with hysteria, jagged as a splinter of glass. shaky from the anticipation of a fight, ani pushes at the body in front of her again for good measure, a poor outlet for the sudden stab of furious humiliation that guts her, feeling the beady little eyes of judgment aimed their way. his fault for shining a spotlight on her, making her mental fucking breakdown the star of the show, brought to center stage. she sniffles and swipes at her blotchy nose, the teary snot that wants to flow out, wild, dilated pupils glittering like the point of a knife. at her sides, her fists clench until the bones in her knuckles cramp, as if waiting for an excuse to land another hit. )
The fuck is wrong with you? ( spitting, king-cobra venom: ) Mind your own goddamn business.