Skye

POV: DEADLOCK
Deadlock, sitting in the kitchen, was drinking a cup of tea with which it was as if not a delicious mixture of herbs was pouring into her mouth, but a viscous liquid that did not allow Deadlock to breathe, her hands barely held the cup until Skye's sharp voice dispersed all the gray clouds from her thoughts and eyes, her red hair, forever woven into a tight braid from which strands escaped, made Deadlock's face to appear an involuntary smile.