The Hollow Crow (Mina Carolina X Reader)

Prologue: Caged Bird

You wake up with a start, your eyes still heavy from your lack of sleep the previous night. You never could sleep well on your own, you have been plagued by hurendous nightmares ever since you were a baby. Nothing you or your parents try ever helps, so you've just learnt how to function on only a handful of hours of sleep.

'I must have drifted off.'

you think to yourself as you rub the sleep from your eyes.
"*Sigh. Time to start moving." You tell yourself, as you push off of the arms of your chair. You always liked this chair, close enough to the window for you to feel the warmth from the sun and watch passing crowds, but far enough away that the light isn't painful to your sensitive eyes.

"(Y/fn) breakfast is ready, tidy yourself up and come downstairs."
"Ok." Your reply sounding more exhausted than you want.
Slipping your hands into the pockets of your trousers, you make your way to your house's small bathroom. Griping the edges of the sink you look at your appearance in the mirror. Your (Y/hc) hair is starting to get messier than you would like...

'Just like this bathroom, disgusting!'

You think to yourself, as you glare at some grime on the underside of the sink, as if staring at it would suddenly make it dissapear. "Tch. I'll have to clean the house once I get back today."
Returning to your visage in the mirror, you decide this time to focus on your eyes. They're still their usual (Y/ec), but the colour is darker, harsher. Which is accentuated by the dark circles under your eyes, which keep getting bigger every day.

'God...what I wouldn't give for a full nights rest.'

Deciding you're almost done checking yourself out, you turn your focus to your skin. It has its usual (Y/sc) colour, but it still looks healthy, despite your sleep deprivation.

'Thank you mother.'

You've always predicted that young skin is something taken from your mother's side.

Satisfied, you decide to head downstairs, lightly stepping down the wooden staircase, checking if the creaky spots are where you still remember. Silently, you slip into the kitchen, where your senses are immediately assaulted by a heavenly concoction of different scents, and the voices of a familiar man and woman.

The woman is your mother, who is currently stiring something in a pot, which you guess is the source of the amazing smell. She isn't very tall, only standing at about 5'3. Her hair has the same (Y/hc) colour as yours. Turning towards the muscular man sitting at the table, you immediatly recognise your father. He has the same (Y/ec) eyes as you, he is also quite short himself, standing at only 5'6. He always has his favourite jacket drapped over his shoulders, he once told you that when you've grown up he'll give it to you. A man of few words but one you look up to with the utmost respect. Turning the page on his news paper your father grunts occassionaly, you can never tell whether it's a laugh, a sneer, or all of the above.