"It's a body with an empty mind. No thoughts, no memories of who, no past." River's fingers travel across the bridge of the girl's nose. Her touch is feather-soft, nearly not there, but the weight of her eyes as they study her is heavy.
Whiskey exhales. Her breath is warm and it reaches the pale skin of River's wrist. River holds still.
The girl is just like her in so many ways. Except not. River has a past. She knows who she used to be and is now. This girl does not. This girl is a shell, once filled with water but now with air.
"What's inside?" Scrunching up her face, River cocks her head to the side.
Whiskey stares blankly back. "A sunset is a thing of beauty but has no purpose."
"Do you have a purpose?"
She receives no answer. Rather, Whiskey places the palm of her hand over River's. Her fingers clasp around River's hand and gently removes it. "Broken," Whiskey whispers.
"Me too," River replies.