burning. red, hot, burning digits.
it’s all she can think about. optics fixated on her pads, the tip of her tongue prying out from the right of glossy brims, glasses sinking to the tip of her nose .. she paints quite the
( … )
chaotic picture, in true little sister fashion.
but ——— 𝑶𝑯.
“ prue! you scared me, ” a breathy exhale, after a startled tread backwards. you’d think she’d be used to unexpected but now .. y’know, given she lives in the halliwell
( … )
⠀
“ oh, oh —— 𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂! ”
a fire ball is dodged, all thanks to instinct .. she makes a dive for the coach, taking cover behind it, eyes peeled for help. she didn’t count on an attack this morning.
where are her sisters?!
⠀