Poisoned Lips

4: witches

^ reference image for a description.
Ignore weird stuff lol.
Aslo if anyone has a good chapter name, I'm here for suggestions.
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"You see Freyja... You should never conclude someone is evil. There is always a reason for their action. Don't judge anyone. Ever."

The figure was a toned male, entirely covered in black clothing. He wore black gloves, a black cloak, black boots, and a face covering. His face covering didn't hide the bottom half of his face (like that of Freyja's or Azalea's), his own covered his entire face. The only visible parts of his face were his deep blue eyes and his shoulder-length dirty blonde hair.

"Lydia, who are they?" He asked.

"Why is your entire body covered?" Azalea asked him, curiously.

"Why is half of your face covered, Azalea?" He retorted.

Her eyes widened and she rushed to him, tightly hugging his torso.

"Devland!"

"I know, you missed me."

"You missed me too, don't lie."

Devland laughed and hugged her back. "Maybe just a little."

"You two know each other?" Lydia asked, her mouth agape.

Freyja shook her head, exasperated. Again. People asked such stupid questions. She concluded that Lydia was a moron.

"No. Not at all. We just happen to be random strangers," Devland replied.

Freyja's lips curled upwards behind her mask.

"You don't have the right to insult me in my own home. You know I'm your only chance-"

"Relax!" Azalea yelled. "He was just joking right?" She smiled.

"Right...I didn't mean to offend you. Your sense of humor is just very terr - Ow!"

"What Devland means to say is that he is very sorry -"

"And very hungry," he added.

Stars appeared at the sides of Freyja's eyes, trying to convince her to give in. The rest of their conversation was drowned out by her pounding head. After a whole night of no sleep and no food, she wasn't sure how long she would stay on her feet. Also, she was still very wet from the rain although the wind dried her off a bit.

"Hello?"

Freyja opened her eyes to everyone staring at her. She pushed herself from the wall and sent a thumbs up to Azalea.

Azalea laughed.

"Is there food?" Freyja asked, turning her head to the two Lydia's in front of her.

"There's hot soup."

"Perfect."

Lydia led her through the neat living room and instructed the others to follow. She told them to grab their bowls and wait for her outside the tiny L-shaped kitchen. Lydia's house was small but made of bricks and stones. She must have a high social status. Only the poor villagers' houses were made of wood.

After she served them their portion, they sat on a circular table in the living room. Freyja dipped the spoon into the hot vegetable soup and shakily brought it to her lips.

"Your mask," Azalea said.

Frustrated, she angrily took off her mask. This was the third time. First, outside Lydia's bar then just minutes ago with her embarrassing thumbs up, and now. She felt humiliated. Yes, she hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours or had food either but that was no excuse.