Crybaby.

The rain was pouring heavily, but Fiona didn’t seem bothered by it, neither did she show any signs of wanting to get up and leave. Instead, she remained there, her knees sinking deeper and deeper into the wet mud beneath her. “I’d stay here forever if you didn’t let me talk, Amara.” She began, ignoring the way her body shivered under the cold water and the way her teeth clattered together and the looks she was getting from passersby. Good, she thought at one point, realizing that if Amara was much like the other dirty aristocrats she knew, the woman would most definitely care about her reputation and won’t be able to stand the sight of people looking at her like this. However, her next words seemed to completely shatter whatever hope she had left. “Are you stupid? I have nothing to talk to you about,” Amara said, her voice cold, but firm. “So, for you very own benefit, I suggest you get yourself up and leave here.” Fiona wanted to feel angered by her words, she wanted to shoot up that