Ask me if I prefer the event of a falling sky or a breaking Moon.
The Moon's light will shine no more if it broke.
But the sky would not be as blue and joyous if it fell.
I prefer the skyfall.
I will be forever blue with it.
[FRENEMIES TO LOVERS]
£
...
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"I do believe you."
☂
She aimed the gun at the man with the red Ferrari. "I'm gonna need your car."
"How dare you point a gun at me, you..." The filthy rich man leaned against his car in fear. His hands up, shaking.
"Womanchild. Whatever. Give me the keys. A woman and her daughter's life are at stake. And your car just might save them." Y/N stuck her hand out for him to give her the keys.
"Ferrari is the fastest car in the world. You would need to know how to drive it." He stayed still as he spoke. His eyes wide.
Y/N grinned wickedly. "Exactly."
***
Five groaned as he stood up, rubbing his forehead. He watched the man with the brown fur coat yell madly as his red Ferrari took off. I wonder who that could've been. He walked up to the man. "Excuse me, sir." The man turned to him. "If you want my car, I only have one. And now it's gone!"
Five furrowed. "No, I... I don't want your car. Look," The man looked to him. "I need you to tell me if the girl you saw was short heightened, had (h/c - hair color) hair, and (e/c - eye color) eyes."
"Yes. Yes! Yes, she was! Do you know her?" The man.
"She's..." Five sighed. "She's, my friend."
"Well, you better stop your friend, or she's gonna crash my car!" The man kicked his Italian leather shoes on the sidewalk. Then he stared at them in shock, seeing a small white scratch. "No! My Italian leather!"
Five rolled his eyes, and jumped away.
'The world's gonna end anyway.'
***
Vanya played her melancholy melody on her violin outside in the porch. The wind chimes clanked as the wind picked up a bit. The music calmed her. It kept her in check. In this moment, she had everything she needed.
While inside, Harold placed his pocket book on the bathroom sink. Her opened the velcro and pulled out the red notebook. He sat on the rim of the toilet and opened it. He read, and he read, and he read.
"June twelfth. A controlled environment has proven ideal for the maximum impact of Number Seven's powers." Reginald Hargreeves wrote in his notebook, as the small child stared at him from across the way. "But in the face of sure, uninvited chaos, she must be trained to locate control in another form."
