DeathOfCrows (deathofcrows) wrote in purgatory_rpg,

Silent Yet Unafraid ((Open: All))

Angelica did her best. Emerald eyes adjusting in an attempt to pierce the sudden gloom of atmosphere with her gaze as darkest night of the outside world gave way to darker pulse of this world not quite below, not quite above. A hazy sort of inbetween. Purgatory.

Tawny hair whispered against the curve of a white cheek, tones of gold illuminated in the capricious mass as it caressed bare shoulders and hugged each and ever curve her porcelain form offered. Such an elegance of silk that clothed her was abruptly and thankfully halted from being over done due to shredded nature of the ivory gown's bottom, tatters hanging about her knees in thin strips giving view of an alabaster thigh that dipped into boots of innocent white. An oval shape ornament of tarnished gold hung upon the low dipped neckline of her attire, drawing attention to a woman's vanity.

Eyes of jade fire slid about her surroundings quietly, head tipping away in what might have been modesty at the foreign eyes that lit upon her. Oh, some of those eyes were legitimate in their attractions; drawn by the murmur of silk against skin like silk and the tongue that drew with cruel innocence over plush lips. Others, more in fact, simply by the pulse of veins beneath nearly translucent skin and the suggestion of naivety that she presented.

She skirted the dance floor, avoiding the press of grinding bodies, brush of groping hands, and constriction of sweaty limbs against sweaty limbs. Opted instead to sink into a seat at the bar, resting finger upon the top in a feather light meeting of skin against the firm platform. Crossed her legs, surveying the dancefloor from beneth the shadow of dark lashes. It would take a hell of a lot of drinks before she'd consign herself to that mass.

There was little else to do for the moment but order a drink, ignore the dirty smiles, and content herself with the dirtier feeling of ease in this utterly un-Angelica like setting.
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