[She is sitting by the fountain as she is wont to do, taking pleasure in the return of her body by spying on everything that passes by with hidden eyes. She sees you stumbling by, though not where you could see her unless you were directly looking and a hand sprouts from the wall and gently tugs the back of your shirt.
Something is wrong. That much she can tell. And she is tired of things being wrong]
no subject
Something is wrong. That much she can tell. And she is tired of things being wrong]