“You were lucky to be born into this family, don’t you understand that? You ungrateful little whore.” - A voice as sharp as daggers rang out through her ears. It’s owners breath carrying traces of gin and dry vermouth, the glass where the scent had been picked up from was balanced elegantly between two fingers. Crimson nails tightening against it’s stem and the voice rose higher, almost into a shriek. “I gave you everything, we gave you and Beauregard everything!” Blue, icy eyes sharpening with each word as they boar into a mirrored pair. “And this, this is how both of you chose to repay us? Don’t even try and talk back to me right now!” A sharp smack ringing out, filling the cold manor before slowly turning into clicking footsteps, and finally silence.

Familiar blue eyes stared through a pristine window, the sky outside was grey - brewing, paling out Paris’ once beautiful ocean-colored sky. A chair was placed in front of a the glass, and a figure sitting in it perfectly poised. The room behind her was fashioned to look like France during the revolutionary area - everything classical and beautifully fashioned. Pastels filled the room’s color pallet, and tucked away objects created an open energy that drifted within it. A pair of plush lips parted, and finally had filled the room with something other than the sound of the rain’s pitter-patter against the loft. Finally, after what had seemed like forever - the rain had halted and the sky began to open up. However the sun was already replaced by brother moon hours before, and stars twinkled shyly in the sky. The glistening side walks reflecting it’s brilliant city lights, maybe it was a sign - a sign she needed to do something other than be cooped up in her apartment despite what her mother had wanted.

Her cheek was still pink where it had been struck earlier, however the swelling had finally fallen. Running her seemingly always cold finger tips over it she rose, tracing her other hands over the chair’s back as she headed towards her vanity. Grabbing a bit of finishing powder she dabbed it onto her face, hoping it would make the mark completely vanish. Grabbing a bottle of black eyeliner she traced over her eyes - finishing off with a slight flick at the ends. A wiggle of a mascara brush over her lashes and a swipe of balm over her petal-like lips. Grabbing a brush and slowly working through her intact and large chocolate curls she took a portion of her smaller part and pinned it back with a silver, flowery burette she had gotten as a birthday gift from Scorpius seven years ago and failed to wear over recent years. Making her way into her closet and running her fingers over countless clothing articles hanging by their necks she finally grabbed a chiffon fabric dress and slid it onto herself after getting out of her pervious clothing. It was a grey-beige color, and buttoned below her neck. The sleeves had a delicate puff to them, and dandelion flyways printed about it. A slim, black belt fit over her waist and made the attire more figure flattering. A pair of sheer stockings were rolled onto those mile-long legs, and a pair of nude pumps topped off her feet. Grabbing a tan pea-coat she wrapped it around herself and fastened it at her midsection.

Humming quietly she tucked away her wallet and strolled out of her floor, locking the door behind her and making her way onto the elevator. Yes, it was true she didn’t exactly have plans in mind - but this was Paris at night. Anything and everything could happen in a blink of an eye, and maybe that’s what she need. To get away, get away from her own mind. It was funny, when she was little and honey-haired she was just as stickily sweet too. Showering Scorpius and Art with hugs, claiming that if she didn’t she would over-flow. Overflow with love and feeling, she’d explode. At least that was the thought she had at such a young age, in truth she discovered - you leaked. You leaked right from your eyes, and the feelings would taste like salt on the tongue. And now? Now she was empty, there was nothing left to seep through her it seemed. No sorrow, now joy - it would never overflow again… All of it fell, fell somewhere deep and unknown. “Feet don’t fail me now, take me to the finish line. All my heart, it breaks every step that I take. But I’m hoping that the gates, they’ll tell me that you’re mine.” Her voice melodious as ever, but as if it grew huskier with her singing. As she passed the doorman she nodded a bit out of politeness and almost mumbled the next line. “Walking through the city streets. Is it by mistake or design? I feel so alone on a Friday night.” 

Her heels clicked against the wet pavement, and the smell of wet earth filled her nostrils. “Can you make it feel like home, if I tell you you’re mine? It’s like I told you honey. Don’t make me sad, don’t make me cry. Sometimes love’s not enough when the road gets tough… I don’t know why.” Paris was beautiful at night, and even if chilly - worth simply walking around in. Happy couples ran for shelter and women lured them to flower stands, it’s produce perfuming the streets with a comforting aroma. The girl moved as elegant as morning mist, a blanket of cold air coating over and causing her breaths to escape like puffs of clouds before drifting upwards into nothingness.

1. charmingnikolette posted this