Literature
VesAme: Self-reflection
At first glance you'd think she was merely in shock. At second glance you'd say she was deranged. At third glance you would realize; that cold thing opposite of her isn't really dead. The murky room, lit up by two lone candles, one calmly but vividly burning at her side, while the other was flickering wildly by his.
She was comfortably perched in a very dated armchair with an artfully carved frame. In her lap was a brittle book in the last years of its life, weighing down vaguely on her crossed legs as her glassy eyes absorbed the strange letters. You'd presume she was alone at first, because of the way she shrugged off the molten stare