A year. [ her hair shows it. long and almost black after the shower, hanging around her collarbone. not the short, blue cut she'd had to make to avoid notice after rey nolo had 'died.' it feels too fitting, now. that old self dying, the rey who'd been nobody.
she turns her attention upward, searching for stars that she can't see for all the city lights. ]
no subject
she turns her attention upward, searching for stars that she can't see for all the city lights. ]
We're at war, though. It felt ... longer.