#✖ winifred snow.1

[huntergreyisanasshole]

▶ WINIFRED SNOW

Being a Grey means being a suicide every hour of every day because you can't be anything else when you walk the streets with a knife naked in your hand and your throat naked to the wind, waiting to kill, waiting to die, waiting to fuck or be fucked--call it sociopathy or call it suicide, but it comes down to the same thing, and every Grey than came before her, ever, has known exactly how to find the edge, to find the point where the ground drops off and the sky spreads its arms, and close her eyes, and fall. They say suicide is painless, she thinks, and smiles a small, bitter smile, and begins to walk the outer edge of the motel, like a ritual gone sour. 

The outside air is hot and brisk and dry, and it smells of salt and oranges, like the whole world is some fancy mixed drink meant to be sipped and savored. She likes that image. Add a cherry and shot of absinthe and you could call it the Winifred Snow: all bittersweetness and salty regret, hiding a bite that you'd never see until it slapped you across the face. It’s not like she hates the woman, but Hunter has not been Winifred’s biggest fan in some time now. Personal feelings towards the mob princess aside, she still manages to do her job.  Speaking of her job, she is off to meet the boss at her home for a little bit of training. Something they have been doing on a weekly basis. 

Jesus, it’s a good thing that she knows her away around this place or she’d be fucking lost. She finds Winifred already at the gym and she tosses her bag on one of the benches and makes her way towards her. ❛ I know, I’m late. What's with the fucking lights? ❜ Was it her or was everything extra bright?

@winifredxsnow​