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I know they said the end is near, but I'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love. Shining just for you!
Mirrorball, Taylor Swift.
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kenji kishimoto 𝔁female oc! book one, the folklore trilogy
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Alys Anderson didn't believe in reflections. They were, in her estimation, distortions—shiny, deceptive things that played tricks on the eye. Cold, lifeless glass mirroring back a version of yourself that only ever told part of the truth, a slice of what the world wanted to see. People, she thought, were much the same. Masks of civility stretched over cruelty, over desperation, over weakness. And, like reflections, she never trusted people either.
Which was fine, really. It worked out well for her. Trust was an unnecessary luxury, like comfort or warmth, or whatever it was other people seemed to care about so deeply. She didn't have time for that sort of nonsense. Her life—every second of it—was carefully curated. Controlled. Meticulously planned. And it was better that way.
She was efficient. That's what people said. Cold, reserved, terrifyingly precise. As far as Alys was concerned, that was as good a compliment as any. She didn't need to be liked; she needed to be useful. Cold, efficient, perfect. Alys Anderson was nothing if not useful.
