It was a bizarre sight. Marileen, crumpled up into a quiet, reserved ball, just staring blankly ahead. It was difficult to tell what her eyes were fixated on. The room was dark, with only the ominous blue glow of the television providing light, making it hard to pick out any discernible facial features. She was just staring straight ahead.
Handwing looked at her from the doorway of the kitchen as she lie on the tattered couch. She didn’t even see him. He thought she could smell him like a bloodhound, the way she always seemed to know where he was, but tonight she was blinded. By something. And was she shivering. It was by no means cold — in spite of the air conditioning being on for once — and was a comfortable room temperature. He frowned at her, approaching cautiously.
“Marileen?”
She gave a visible
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