Anasa

° River °

"River is a seventeen year old guy" she started.

"And his name is River?"

"Would you fucking stop for a minute? Yes, his name is River. You never had anything to say about my name" she growled, sitting at the edge of her chair again as if to jumo on the woman across her.

"Anyway. His name is River and he has jet black hair that are almost all the time messy. I've seen them tamed once for a ball, and they were messy again by the time we started dancing. When he's sweaty they fall to his forehead, when the wind blows they get even messier, and when it's snowing he's wearing a beanie, so they come out in their normal state"

"Okay, I have an idea then. Describe him from head to toe. You've already done the hair, so..." said the woman's annoyingly maintained voice, slipping through her lips like something annoyingly soft and calm, like a lullaby.

"Aren't we here to talk about his character and shit like that?"

"We're here to discuss about the influence he's had in your life. And I'm starting to think I'm getting more information about that through his appearance rather than if you actually described it"

"So the best hair in this universe" she concluded, biting her lower lip in extreme annoyance "Eyebrows black as well, but he doesn't have too many hair. Nowhere. And his eyes, of course. His eyes are blue. Not light blue, or icy blue. They're just blue. Like... like the sea, like the colour you think eyes can't have. Deep."

"His nose is slightly crooked. He's broken it one too many times now, the first being one of his many falls down the stairs"

"Excuse me?" Asked the woman, her eyes shooting up from her paper.

"His lips have cuts. From biting them hard or from fights or falling down the stairs" continued the girl, ignoring her completely "And you get so used to his infamous scowls that he wears like my mother wears her make up, but there isn't anything more beautiful than his smile. He doesn't smile often. Not genuinly. But when he does you just... I can't get my self to not smile along"

The woman scribbled something in her neetly clean paper, and she looked like she was fighting the urge to rip it off her hands.

"I'm guessing there's a purple bruise on his jaw, there almost always is one. Mostly that falling down the stairs-"

"Do you want to expand on what that means?"

"I'm guessing you already know doc" she replied calmly. "If you don't, you'll have to wait for something that falling down the stairs can't explain"

The scribbling stopped. The woman looked up.

"His neck usually has marks of fingertips, or a bruise on it, and his collarbone sticks out. He usually wears sweaters that cover those bruises. He's told me that part of his body disgusts him"

"The base of his neck?" She asked, confusion of the slightest manner in her eyes.

"There's a scar running right under his collar bone. Got it from falling down the stairs when he was fifteen" she said calmly again. "Said he got sick in the garaz. Knife. He hates it"

She shook her head "He's not a bodybuilder. But he's strong. He used to be skinny and he still loses weight easily, but he's got muscle, you know? He has a beautiful body, and he's very tall"

"Is he self consious? About his body?"

"Yes" was all she replied.

"How do you know?"

"How do you know when someone is insecure?" She asked sarcadtically "He told me. He wore layers of clothes. He avoids physical contact" she growled.