Whispers of Frost and Fire
A social butterfly who flitted from group to group, charming everyone around her, making them feel like they were the most important person in the world.
And then there was me.
I couldn’t help it. I looked at my reflection in the glass door beside me, seeing my pale skin like a stark contrast against the deep shadows of the night. The lack of pigment in my skin had never bothered me as much as it did tonight. My hair, a pale shade of white-blonde, hung limp against my back. My eyes, a pale, almost translucent shade of blue, looked back at me—vulnerable, exposed.
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