Sophronitis
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Angela carried a gun, but it was always empty - or so Moira thought.
Bookmarked by Sophronitis
12 Feb 2020
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“You could come back,” Angela said, quietly, so low it might’ve been a hushed whisper. “Let me take care of you.”
Moira paused: she wished she could. The selkies in the sea begged her not to - for her not to go where they couldn’t reach, to where the witches brewing spells in their cast iron cauldrons couldn’t help her. But oh, how she wished; she wondered why Angela was so intent on rescuing whatever was left of her after she got overrun by the consequences of her acts.
Maybe it was love, she thought.
Bookmarked by Sophronitis
11 Feb 2020
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In her head, O’Deorain equalled shirt and tie, hair pushed back, flawless make-up. What she had before her was—well, not that.
It was leggings, white loose t-shirt, red hair flopping down over her forehead.
And dancing.
Bookmarked by Sophronitis
31 Jan 2020
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Widowmaker performed perfectly. Moira just wasn't prepared for what that would mean.
Bookmarked by Sophronitis
28 Jan 2020
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The fantasies are already a betrayal, so Satya lets herself fall all the way.
Bookmarked by Sophronitis
28 Jan 2020