Icy blue eyes that glinted with suppressed steel. Skin as pale as paper, as marshmallows, as snow covering the earth and choking out the life beneath it. Hair as dark as night, as black coffee, as ebony wood. Lips the colour of apples, of roses, of freshly spilled blood.
Her sometimes lover, most of the time enemy, had always had a certain fondness for her appearance whenever she emphasised her similarities to Snow White.
Perhaps it was the dreamer in him shining through. He’d always scoff at her when she said that but the slight blush that spread from his ears to his cheeks and down his neck proved he silently agreed.
Her lips quirked up into a wicked smirk as she caught another staring at her with something that might’ve been jealously, might’ve been hate.
She’d always liked this part of their game.
She had always liked to make him just a teensy weensy bit mad.
It reminded him that she wasn’t entirely his. She wasn’t theirs either. She belonged to no one, no one but herself.
She just let people think she belonged to them.
You have to degrade yourself sometimes, baby. Or at least make them think you are.
It makes it all the more fun to watch them realise that they are beneath you, instead of it being the other way round.
Her sometimes lover was the only one to figure it out.
Yet he kept coming back.
Strange boy.
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