Doorstep
A young woman, 17 years old with fair complexion and slightly freckled face, stands at the door. Clad in a waist-length military jacket of violet, a black sweater worn below with warm white scarf wrapped about the neck, legs adorned in black shorts and matching combat boots with violet lace, paired with stockings of snow covering the rest of them, the adolescent nervously waits. Her platinum hair is kept in a collarbone-length (at most) moptop below the black military cap she wears, and one might see bandages under her sleeves despite the fingerless gloves the woman wears.
The most noticeable feature, however, is her eyes. The right may be covered by bandages, but the other shines that vivid, trademark hot pink that Magtok has come to know so well.
Hello? I think you might be able to help me.
The woman replies tentatively