Edge of a rooftop; open
The green girl was on a rooftop looking down at the town below. The town was familiar, but it wasn't familiar at all. It was wrong, but the girl knew wrong and she knew that wrong was something pervasive and everywhere. She wanted to dance and sway and enjoy, like the people below, but she knew she would never be accepted down there. If she could be different and look different, then she honestly believed she could climb down the fire escape and slip between clustered bodies without notice, and not being noticed was something she yearned for. But she wasn't like everyone else, and it was a dream that she could someday be just someone in the crowd.
She was being pursued. She'd been pursued for a long time, and she knew what it was it was to live with fear over her shoulder and breath down her neck. She could turn herself in and live easier, breathe easier, but there were things that were just wrong, and she couldn't just stand by, even if it meant being happy and being normal.
A minute. that was how long she was going to allow herself to sit there. Legs swinging off the rooftop ledge, black dress loose on her tall and skinny frame, she looked like some kind of forgotten Halloween prop in a pointed hat and baring bony green knees beneath her hem. One minute of carefree, and she braced her hands on the eaves and tipped forward and looked down at the tops of the heads of the people below. People that could easily become a mob. She shuddered a little, and she shook her head. No. Not tonight. One minute of not thinking bad things. One minute of pretending her verdigris didn't matter and would be magicked away by the man behind the curtain.