[Cassandra doesn’t like the cold; when you almost die in the snow it sort of sours you on both cold and snow, and she rather hates both. So she’s already bundled up against the chill. But the bots have insisted on bunding her further. There are three scarves wrapped around her neck (one pink, one lime green, and one a multicoloured mess), two extra pairs of gloves that have been stuffed in her pockets, and just the one hat in neon purple shoved down over her dark, white-streaked curls.
The cup of hot cocoa is the final cherry on the annoying sundae. They’ve made an attempt at her full name, Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo, and every part of her name IS there, technically, only there’s a few extra names added to the list that make it curve entirely around the paper cup.
She peers up at him over the pile of scarves, annoyance at the bots and the knitwear evident despite the fact that her mouth and half her face are hidden beneath the scarves, a slip of a girl who looks younger than her fourteen years, although her eyes are far older and more haunted than they should. And when she speaks, her voices is laced with what sounds like a rather proper English accent. (If England existed in Exandria.)]
close knit
The cup of hot cocoa is the final cherry on the annoying sundae. They’ve made an attempt at her full name, Cassandra Johanna von Musel Klossowski de Rolo, and every part of her name IS there, technically, only there’s a few extra names added to the list that make it curve entirely around the paper cup.
She peers up at him over the pile of scarves, annoyance at the bots and the knitwear evident despite the fact that her mouth and half her face are hidden beneath the scarves, a slip of a girl who looks younger than her fourteen years, although her eyes are far older and more haunted than they should. And when she speaks, her voices is laced with what sounds like a rather proper English accent. (If England existed in Exandria.)]
I see they got to you, too.