Icy wanted a story about herself so I gave her one. Only she's not a witch here. She's more. One-shot. Dark.
In my perception, I would appear as a ngẫu nhiên girl wandering through the streets and casually window-shopping. But that was not what I was really doing. I wore dull, black and gray clothes. They spoke of lack and it described me. I took things from people and left them with nothing.
My hair, a freakishly light blonde that might have passed for white, would have caused people to think that I was an old lady. Except for when they saw my face, of course. It might have been my eyes that had...
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