Summary: She is the Slayer.
Word Count: 100 words
Author's Note: Written for ladysophiekittyin a totally impromptu fashion. The ~icon~ is the inspiration. Also, wow, it's been so long since I wrote something and posted it. It feels reaaaally good. Cross-posted
She's gotten used to the weight of it. The coolness. The distance it provides.
No one else can see it, not really, but she knows it's always there. It's molded to her skin.
The grime seeps into her pores. It snicks under her nails and clings to her hair.
She's been rolling in dirt for so long (endless years of endless night) that nowadays she forgets to cough up the grave-dust.
Instead, she swallows, let's it settle deep inside.
She slips on the mask (her weapon her armor her shield) with natural ease: She is the dark.