Delyth frowned when she saw Arwen there, standing all tall and fine while she sat confined to a wheelchair. Shouldn't it have been Arwen feeling helpless like this? Why did her plan backfire?
"What are you doing here, Arwen? Are you here to laugh at me?" Delyth said, clearly displeased.
Arwen took a step back, her gaze sweeping over Delyth from head to toe. The scrutiny made Delyth shift uncomfortably, feeling self-conscious.
"What do you think you are? A clown?" Arwen asked, sounding bored.
Delyth was taken aback. "You —" She had never expected Arwen to mock her like this. Not that Arwen fawned over her, but she had always maintained a certain elegance, refraining from such biting, deprecating remarks. What had changed now?
"Since you don't consider yourself a clown, then don't worry. You definitely can't make me laugh. Especially like this," Arwen gestured dismissively at Delyth's form, from head to toe.
