| [ti]P[/ti]Change of Address | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 18 2013, 07:51 AM (140 Views) | |
| Vesperia Marise | Jan 18 2013, 07:51 AM Post #1 |
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As I burn another page As I look the other wayI still try to find my place In the diary of Jane[css=text-align:justify;] Her suit was clean-pressed, the folds of the severe black pants were well done. The broad leg tailored pants and trim jacket with a woman's collared shirt only gave credence that this woman was someone with money and effluence. Black hair pulled back into the typical bun and very dark sunglasses covered her eyes from casual recognition. Though her bright red lipstick drew attention to her pale olive skin and good complexion, nothing else about her gave away her status in life nor did it mean more than her wealth was on visible display. Even though it was next to impossible to see her eyes behind the darkly tinted glass, there was no doubt she was looking for something. Her head may not have moved, but it was obviously whatever was behind those glasses was ticking along fast. Designer heels clicked on the pavement as she walked, and the silver at her wrists jingled merrily despite the severity of the wearer. Even her neck had an expensive looking silver wire-work necklace with opaque white gems dotting it along, exposed just where the collar of the shirt parted open to reveal the white flesh beneath. There was no hint of her chest, which was pretty flat considering her ethnicity, and the fact the suit was not tailored to emphasize showing pale bosom. The building was unfamiliar but she was not a resident of the city, living in her expensive apartment suite in Olympia. Her friend in the business wanted to meet here. A carefully plucked and penciled brow raised in a neat arch above the rim of the glasses as the woman stared at the doorway before opening it with all the authority of the wealthy. The darkness took over her vision and with a smooth gesture, the glasses were removed, click, and an arm was slipped into her blouse. Her severe look was extended to the pale cream eyes she had, a gift she was assured did not mark her completely as perfect. But where was that friend? [/css] here is her suit here |
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| Brianag Logan | Jan 26 2013, 05:11 PM Post #2 |
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[css=text-align:left; font-family:georgia;font-weight:bold;font-size:16px;color:#324e47;padding:0px 0px -5px 0px;]Theres nothing for me here, it's all the same [/css][css=text-align:left;font-family:georgia;font-size:12px;color:#54766e;font-decoration:italic;line-height:10px;]AND EVEN THOUGH I KNOW• • •[/css] [css=text-align:center;]Reaching behind herself she grabbed the bottom of the leather shorts and tugged them down a little, already growing irritated with the short, skin-tight things. Adorning her upper body was a navy blue corset, adorned with black lace and silver patterns spiraling out from studs and chains that hung freely from the fitted thing, drawing attention to the slim, studded collar that adorned her neck; a show of possession in an attempt to keep customers for trying anything with her. Although the regulars knew it was nothing more then a prop, some even going as far as to take offense that she would wear a collar without having a master, either way she wore it regardless of others view points when working. While she could look after herself, running a club such as whiplash had it's own share of dangers, more so with her working as a bartender; very few people outside of the handful of regulars ever realized that she owned the place. Sharp clicks followed her around as she collected abandoned glasses and dropped them off with the others to be cleaned, her feet already beginning to ache from the excessively strappy heels that adorned her feet, glittering silver nail varnish poking out and catching the light as she walked. As a buzz sounded in her ear she pressed the walkie, the voice of her eldest sister reaching her ears through the headset she wore. Nothing more then a quick check in which she quickly responded to before worming her way back behind the bar and continuing her work. So far the night had been relatively quite, but then business didn't usually pick up to the later hours anyway. Leaning against the bar she eyed the door with boredom, serving customers when the came for a drink grudgingly but with a smile on her face, before returning to staring at the door; a benefit of being the boss was that no one could tell you off for slacking at least. Two guys entered but neither was her type and as such were dismissed quickly enough, although the next guest did catch her eye; a foreign looking woman in a suit, who clearly did not fit the usual crowd. From the outside it wasn't clear the nature of the club and with customers coming in anything from casual to very skimpy leather it wasn't all that obvious to much later when things were more crowded. Pushing off from the bar she exited from behind the safety of it's large wooden frame, walking with her head held high and a purpose as she crossed the large open dance floor and made her way over to the woman. It was only fair she checked that the other knew where she'd entered, as there had been the odd clueless lamb stumbling through their doors now and then. “Excuse me, can I help you Ms?” her voice was silked over with practiced customer service, hands neatly folded in front of her and a soft smile across excessively pierced lips.[/css] [css=text-align:right;font-family:georgia;font-size:12px;color:#54766e;font-decoration:italic;line-height:10px;]• • • THAT EVERYTHING MIGHT GO[/css][css=text-align:right; font-family:georgia;font-weight:bold;font-size:16px;color:#324e47;padding:0px 0px -5px 0px;]Go downhill from here, I'm not afraid [/css] |
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