Wings of Light

♣ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤' 𝕋𝕦𝕣𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤♣

"Aww, that's so sweet to hear it! I prayed my heart out for ya, Frank, ya know! I didn't expect ya sofar."

--- *** ---

"T-Timothy?"

"Frank?"

--- *** ---

"Andrea? Andrea?" The Italian compatriot bleated her name, whilst grasping the prison's old, rusty gates in his mammoth, lukewarm hands. The palest chocolate brown that pigmented his irises no longer glistened any vibrant nuances, squinting up at the recently released prisoner from the arrest.

In the meanwhile, the prostitute was recently released from the custody which lasted for no more than a few days only as she was dressed up back in her attires in which she was arrested back earlier this week. Midnight black fishnet tights layering her long as towers, still appealing, lean legs. An extravagant sheerly cropped white top with long sleeves and V neckline, exposing partly her mossy, milky as vanilla bosom armored her torso. Denim, ripped high waist jeans. Her winter black pantaletot. Her dropping, golden ivory earrings, pierced into her earlobes as snakes. Her classy, midnight black stilettos shielded her petite feet, despite the notorious incessant clicks, producing behind the dull jail walls. Her aureate bob hair was unkempt, swathed in greasy layer since the last time she has washed her hair was almost a week ago. A smug, mischievous smirk brushed her lips in the most natural make-up.

"Don't worry about me, Cayden! It will be fine, my pal!" At the moment, she halted as she managed up her elvish, milky as vanilla hand to swat affably his colossal knuckle, darting her midnight black as the death pools, fueled with smugness behind the most somber pigments of the pitch-black, being scarcely translucent with the pupils. "We will see very soon. Whether on a trial if you haven't made it out of this shithole or otherwise kicking some ass together." A sharp exhale was heaved from the top of her brittle lungs as its oxygen surged promptly from her breathing organs as if it was life-saving.

"By kicking those bastards' asses especially that gay pal of Judy, the young blonde and Judy, herself." An excited, wicked grin danced rhythmically across his dry lips, taking Andrea's petite, amusingly warm hand into his larger though through the rusty gates.

"Cayden! We should find somehow to be at peace with them, instead causing turmoil and then a war." Optimism and realism cusped by brewing and cooking inside the middle-aged lady, who opted to find a diplomatic, discreetly peaceful way the both feudening sides to not hop up in a war. "Don't you realize how many human lives it may cost you to get rid off them in the both ways? Diplomatically and undiplomatically?" She resumed her utterance, showing with her both fingers the listed both alternatives, furrowing her thin eyebrows furiously elegant as her smile pettered out upon her yellow, parchment complexion. "Diplomatically, it will cost zero human lives to stop that hostility, whilst undiplomatically," An abrupt, dry cough kittled the corners of her mouth and throat."I don't even want to talk about it. It will cost a few lives at least. You should stop with that violence towards your enemies."

"Look what these three fools did to me. And that's why I'm here. In the custody until the fucking trial." The serial killer huffed as his lips dripped downward in a grotesque pout, barely gritting his still firm teeth. "And the years of being chasen by the cops for homicide, sadism, kidnap and rape. I don't give a horseshit if we go through the war phase, because once they're eradicated, Andrea," Husky, eerily ironic chuckle laced his tongue by unzipping his lips. "I won't care about them and their existence anymore. They won't be into my eyes, fogging my mind with passive-aggressive thoughts at least. I'll be finally living my own life as an infamous man in Vermont."