The Luna Who Wants Everything
Like staring into a shattered rainbow, their colour is the only thing visible in the middle of this black, miserable thunderstorm.
I slowly shrug my jacket down my shoulders, if I have to shift and defend myself I’d rather not wreck it. Deep black canvas, waterproof from the rain and dense, it feels like I’m wearing armour. Zeke likes his leather jacket, White Forest have their cloaks. I skulk about like a serial killer. So I’ve heard Naomi and Leona say anyway.
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