Post by Bella on Jan 21, 2006 16:00:03 GMT -5
Dark, cold and misty was the bar of Darkburough, but perchance that was just how the wizards who owned the place wanted it. The mist was an obvious spell, and the cold had to be, as the sun outside beat down with force upon the dusten road that led to the rather large bar. The doors were wooden, keeping out the intense sun glare and small wild beasts that roamed the woods beyond. The windows were tinted darkly of the color blue, so that what little light did enter drenched cut-out squares in a watery cast. The bar itself was in wonderful condition, and was frequented by wizards and witches both from the university near-by and the other shops of Drakborough, in to wipe clean their grungy day. Occasionally, when time and circumstances permitted, something else would enter the bar. Something a bit more, dangerous.
Today one such visitor found herself there, seated in the center of a dark blue sqaure, her pink-streaked gray hair taking on a purple-blue hue. Her eyes were a soft cloud grey, their deapths wound with the same shade pink as twined through her hair. Her nails were a deep maroon, the fingers occasionally showing a ring of onyx or garnet. Around her throat was a choker set with a strange, celtic design, her pierced ears showing a smaller version. At the cartilage of her right ear was a small pink hoop, and in the eyebrow of the left was its match. Her body was wrapped in a skin-tight, spaghetti strap dress of the deepest crimson, her feet sporting tall heels of the very same color. With the heels, standing, the woman would be 6'4" easy, without them she was a touch over 6 feet. Since the dress only reached her thighs, a tattoo of a black rose dripping red could be seen on the side of her thigh. All in all, it was obvious this was a vain woman who enjoyed to be noticed.
And indeed, noticed Bella was as people stared at her lithe, voluptuous body in passing. Mesmerized by her very presence, they lost seconds, minutes of their lives watching the beautiful creature barely move, but as of yet, not a single one had dared approach her, not even the waitor, who spared but a passing glance that he all but forced away each time he passed. Was no wizard or witch in the entire bar brave?
Bella watched the waiter pass by her once, twice, thrice. Finally, on the fourth pass she reached out a delicate hand and held her nail steady. The man's arm brushed its entire length across her nail as he walked, and suddenly he shuddered, stopped in his tracks. "Mister?" Bella's soft voice was like liquid honey, and the man turned, eyes wide. "A butterbear, if you don't mind." She smiled, much as a cat must smile at a mouse, and the waiter scurried away as one, forgetting all else in the order of the creature's drink. Returned to her statue state, only Bella's eyes moved, taking in the other guests. Bravery? Non. She needed a miracle to get one of these to talk to her.
Today one such visitor found herself there, seated in the center of a dark blue sqaure, her pink-streaked gray hair taking on a purple-blue hue. Her eyes were a soft cloud grey, their deapths wound with the same shade pink as twined through her hair. Her nails were a deep maroon, the fingers occasionally showing a ring of onyx or garnet. Around her throat was a choker set with a strange, celtic design, her pierced ears showing a smaller version. At the cartilage of her right ear was a small pink hoop, and in the eyebrow of the left was its match. Her body was wrapped in a skin-tight, spaghetti strap dress of the deepest crimson, her feet sporting tall heels of the very same color. With the heels, standing, the woman would be 6'4" easy, without them she was a touch over 6 feet. Since the dress only reached her thighs, a tattoo of a black rose dripping red could be seen on the side of her thigh. All in all, it was obvious this was a vain woman who enjoyed to be noticed.
And indeed, noticed Bella was as people stared at her lithe, voluptuous body in passing. Mesmerized by her very presence, they lost seconds, minutes of their lives watching the beautiful creature barely move, but as of yet, not a single one had dared approach her, not even the waitor, who spared but a passing glance that he all but forced away each time he passed. Was no wizard or witch in the entire bar brave?
Bella watched the waiter pass by her once, twice, thrice. Finally, on the fourth pass she reached out a delicate hand and held her nail steady. The man's arm brushed its entire length across her nail as he walked, and suddenly he shuddered, stopped in his tracks. "Mister?" Bella's soft voice was like liquid honey, and the man turned, eyes wide. "A butterbear, if you don't mind." She smiled, much as a cat must smile at a mouse, and the waiter scurried away as one, forgetting all else in the order of the creature's drink. Returned to her statue state, only Bella's eyes moved, taking in the other guests. Bravery? Non. She needed a miracle to get one of these to talk to her.