[color=85b4ff][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/jeEAcCE.png[/img]
ａｎｄ　ｔｈｅ　ｓｗｅｌｔｅｒｉｎｇ　ｇｒｕｄｇｅ　ｂｕｉｌｄｉｎｇ　ｉｎｓｉｄｅ[/center][/color]

The can of soda did its job. While she would have enjoyed the woman in front of her being pelted by a can, the sticky alternative of hours-long discomfort was good enough for Macaron. 

[color=85b4ff]"Yea. We're even. Even Stevens."[/color] She said with a shrug. Though, in her mind, they were very much not Even Stevens. But Macaron could wait to get even. She had a whole lifetime ahead of her to settle her newfound grudge--probably.

Surprisingly, the comment of Macaron shirking her lineage didn't bother her. Most of it was her not giving a shit about her lineage. To her, her blood was what it was. A nuisance she was born with and learned to live with. And it wasn't like she was awful at magecraft--that good little girl made sure to carve her body with some semblance of mastery of her family's craft even if unstable. One that wouldn't decay, no matter how much she languished and wasted away.

[color=85b4ff]"I wonder."[/color] She said as she brought her hands together. A faint hint of magecraft--transformative in nature--warmed the pale air of the Dark City as Macaron moved her hands apart. Threads of skin stretched between her hands in a childish pattern. A game that Macaron quickly began playing alone, the skin-threads looping around her fingers as she gestured to form different shapes. The snake-like woman would have a feeling that if she tried to partake in the fun, her fingertips would be sliced off in thin sheets.

[color=85b4ff]"And it's not a competition. We can both be little children. Goo goo gaa gaa."[/color] 

She paused.

[color=85b4ff]"And elaborate on shit--because most people have the common sense to not send letters unless you're a fed or sending it to Santa."[/color]

Seemingly, a brief moment of lucidity came over her.

[color=85b4ff]"Especially letters to me."[/color]