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──── ' happy death day, dad ' ──── [CH. V] ✦ ˚
"i can handle myself, thank you very much."
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IT TOOK OPHIRA LONG ENOUGH to get up and get ready. Of course, the only thing in their age-old closet was their ancient academy uniform – to their absolute dislike. And then we consider other factors, such as Ophira's urge to scrub their mucus-stained mouth and reapply whatever makeup was found scattered in their bag.
The makeup in particular was a waste of time, considering how a series of irritably tiny raindrops trailed and trickled down their face as they stepped foot outside. And in conclusion, trailing and trickling over the freshly applied mascara upholding Ophira's lashes. Everyone else is already outside, adjusting into formation around the courtyard used for the funeral service.
Ophira fumbles with their tie in between their fingers as they stroll through, wet leaves crunching under the force of their heels. Heads turn in their very mere presence, eyes lingering over their strange, youthful appearance. Some in concern, and others in mere amusement.
Klaus's face lights up in a good-natured grin, unruly eyebrows wiggling the slightest. "Rise and shine, sister." He greets, amusement tugging against each syllable of his exclamation. One of Klaus's feeble hands subconsciously fumbles with a stray cigarette whilst the other props miniature, pink-rimmed umbrella over his head – a great contrast from the various black-hued variants the others possess. Simply, nothing is out of the ordinary.
