rises the moon

The monochromatic female was gingerly cleaning off some blood splatter from her white coat, a recent hunt filling her belly. She was using snow to do it, since most of the water was either frozen or completely too cold for her to even think about taking a dip. It was a menial task, but Absinth didn't fancy herself a slob; she liked to be clean and well kept. You know, hold yourself to a certain standard. She liked to be pretty and unsullied; as rough around the edges as she was it was imperative that she didn't look savage. It was something her father had taught her- one of the only things not riddled with his more.. sinister machinations.

wormwood