I don't know what I'm meant to do
All I know is I believe in you
All I know is I believe in you
The White Scarab. The vision of it floated in her mind day after day while she traversed uneasy terrain, hiding in shadows, never staying in one place for long. It had been months since she was last seen anywhere--by anyone--for fear of being caught by those who knew her involvement in criminal activities. She had been sold out by an unrelated individual and the hunt for her ballerina body was started. She traveled all over the confines of Novus in that time, making sure she kept distance from everyone she knew, anyone she could be associated with. In the end, at least she was a trustworthy ally in the game of sketchy morals.
When all word had died down and her name vanished from the lips of any concerned, she once again began making rounds through the courts to reestablish her reputation. She had contacts everywhere, names tucked away for certain occasions and faces sought for specific information tucked in her back pocket. Since her unfortunate disappearance perhaps there were things that she missed out on, particular birds that brought her news unable to reach her while 'underground.'
But the girl with the dagger heart was back, and color-swirling eyes set prominently on the Scarab. She would have been able to get there blindfolded if that's what it took, but she was perfectly unobstructed in all ways.
She pushed through the doorways, those guarding immediately recognizing her not from appearance, but the way she moved. She seemingly danced across the areas they encompassed, razor-blade body cutting through all the spaces both occupied and not, eyes averted for they knew the consequences of staring too closely without having anything to offer her but gawking faces and judging sights. One could say she practically lived there in the walls of the pseudo-palace, joining the establishment when Senna pulled her off the dirty Marketplace streets. Since that time she gave rectification through means of enticing business and sharing the secrets she 'learns.' Mutual trade, mutual feelings for the outside world.
The doors were opened for her without much flair, and her slim figure slipped around the dispersed crowd to make way to the bar. She needed a drink, of course, for her return was worthy of celebration--if only for herself. A solo male sat some distance away, speaking in low voices to the bartender she knew so well. The ocean-eyed waiter shot her a glance and then it wasn't a mystery that they spoke of her. Her lips curled into a lavish smirk; so the glamorous male was interested? She sidled up to the counter's top and signed for someone to serve her while he moved in close, asking his question before bothering to introduce himself--though, she supposed, where would be the fun in divulging their secrets out in the open? She regarded him with only a sideways glance, addressing the boy across the table instead, "Red Moon, please." With a wink it was delivered in a flash and she pulled away from the pale man, dropping a singular rose on the counter in front of him.
"If you wish to know, you better keep up." She had the kind of early morning, softly groggy voice that slipped its way under bed sheets and claimed innocent hearts. But the flash in her eyes as she purposefully brushed against him whispered of sweet sin.
Without looking back she parted groups of those gathered for hushed transgression, disappearing to stand in front of a room with a red-painted door marked with the image of a rose--deep into the Scarab's core, a floor below the Lounge.
When all word had died down and her name vanished from the lips of any concerned, she once again began making rounds through the courts to reestablish her reputation. She had contacts everywhere, names tucked away for certain occasions and faces sought for specific information tucked in her back pocket. Since her unfortunate disappearance perhaps there were things that she missed out on, particular birds that brought her news unable to reach her while 'underground.'
But the girl with the dagger heart was back, and color-swirling eyes set prominently on the Scarab. She would have been able to get there blindfolded if that's what it took, but she was perfectly unobstructed in all ways.
She pushed through the doorways, those guarding immediately recognizing her not from appearance, but the way she moved. She seemingly danced across the areas they encompassed, razor-blade body cutting through all the spaces both occupied and not, eyes averted for they knew the consequences of staring too closely without having anything to offer her but gawking faces and judging sights. One could say she practically lived there in the walls of the pseudo-palace, joining the establishment when Senna pulled her off the dirty Marketplace streets. Since that time she gave rectification through means of enticing business and sharing the secrets she 'learns.' Mutual trade, mutual feelings for the outside world.
The doors were opened for her without much flair, and her slim figure slipped around the dispersed crowd to make way to the bar. She needed a drink, of course, for her return was worthy of celebration--if only for herself. A solo male sat some distance away, speaking in low voices to the bartender she knew so well. The ocean-eyed waiter shot her a glance and then it wasn't a mystery that they spoke of her. Her lips curled into a lavish smirk; so the glamorous male was interested? She sidled up to the counter's top and signed for someone to serve her while he moved in close, asking his question before bothering to introduce himself--though, she supposed, where would be the fun in divulging their secrets out in the open? She regarded him with only a sideways glance, addressing the boy across the table instead, "Red Moon, please." With a wink it was delivered in a flash and she pulled away from the pale man, dropping a singular rose on the counter in front of him.
"If you wish to know, you better keep up." She had the kind of early morning, softly groggy voice that slipped its way under bed sheets and claimed innocent hearts. But the flash in her eyes as she purposefully brushed against him whispered of sweet sin.
Without looking back she parted groups of those gathered for hushed transgression, disappearing to stand in front of a room with a red-painted door marked with the image of a rose--deep into the Scarab's core, a floor below the Lounge.
@toulouse i am so happy ;;
TO LIVE MY LIFE THE WAY I WANT
TO SAY AND DO WHATEVER I PLEASE
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(Please tag me in every post)
(Please tag me in every post)
