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Revision as of 13:33, 22 October 2022
- Get the opposition to oblige
- But after that see it's supernatural
- Battle ready and we all rise
- Smoke screens, black magic
Chicago musical ~ Cell Block Tango
- So, I said to him, I said, "You pop that gum, one more time"
- And he did.
- So I took the shotgun off the wall,
- And I fired two warning shots.
- In. To. His. Head.
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Shifting strands of deep auburn through golden-copper, the whole of her hair is the color of burning autumn leaves, wild and rich with red fire. Framed by it, her face is a perfect oval of bisque porcelain, gold dusted with freckles across the sculpted cheekbones and regal nose. She has a finely shaped mouth with a deeply bowed upper lip, and a determined jawline and chin.
But it's Celandine's eyes that dominate the whole. Gabled by straight, slender and severe dark brows, they are huge, heavy-lidded and sensationally lashed. And bedded between the dark, curling lashes burns killer blues with a natural glare fit to set someone's head aflame.
She's dressed in a boy's black t-shirt, thoroughly shrunken, a thin gray V-necked pullover purchased by the half-dozen from some prep school supplier, and a new and oversized pair of black 501's, every trademark carefully removed. Even the buttons on these have been ground flat and featureless. She's a design-free zone, a one-woman school of anti.
- Mortal
- Truth
- Truth
- Supernatural
- Truth
- Truth
- Lie
“If they ask how I died, tell them: still ͘͘͘▀͘͘͘angry.” ― Richard K. Morgan, Altered Carbon
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