[color=85b4ff][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/jeEAcCE.png[/img]
ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｄｕｅｌ　ａｔ　ｈｉｇｈ　ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ[/center][/color]

[color=85b4ff]"Please,"[/color] Macaron said as she took the bowl in hand, [color=85b4ff]"this place is worth as much as me. If they want to be little buzzards pecking around a corpse's corpse for the last drops of their precious grandpa's blood, then by all means."[/color].

She was content to wallow in filth in her miserable existence. The care she had for her family was, at the very least, reciprocal--only her mother never pleaded with her to treat them well. No, the only thing she heard from her mother about her family was wounded apologies in the brief moments between the fevers and dreams. No matter how beloved that woman was, her mother's love could only outweigh the vestigial poison that was Hayao in a select few.

The letter she received was a peculiar one. Her first letter in such a long time, and it was some kind of callout? Though the aspects of the writing carried little meaning for her, what with the fact that she never read her own letters.

The expression on her face was difficult to read. It was a simple smile, but what it relayed was up for debate. Pure un adulterated joy? Raw undulating hatred? Really, she seemed at peace more than anything else. A grin. Closed eyes. The slightest blush as if it were a love letter that confirmed something unrequited.

[color=85b4ff]"I'm going to kill this bitch."[/color]

The words that came out of her mouth didn't help resolve anything. Neither did the macaroni she shovelled into her mouth.