bitching booth calling {cordelia day 2 }

At the water's edge I squat down, dipping my hands into the crystal clear liquid. Cupping the water I use it to clean my face, washing away the blood, rubbing it through my hair to remove the crimson stain. I hated the way it clung to my blonde locks, determined to stain it red. I looked like a fucking clown. "Get the fuck out," I growl, dipping my hands it a second time, aggressively wringing the water through my hair. Not once in my lifetime had I ever thought about going red, I wasn't about to let that change.

The panic had eased as I walked, the silence of the forrest, then the lapping of the river making it easier to breathe, to think logically through thoughts that were irrational and fear driven. With my mind clear I found myself thinking of Lux, wishing that she could have been here next to me. I knew she had to be okay, the Arena silent from any booming cannons, which was a comfort in install, a comfort that I shouldn't be allowing myself to feel.

Pushing myself to my feet my eyes catch sight of the bitching booth, smiling for the first time since this morning I skip over, peeking in quickly to make sure it was empty before taking a seat. Time for my version of happy hour: bitchin and ditchin

[ uses endurance ]