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31_days2012-07-08 11:24 pm
noir-au-blanc.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-07-08 11:24 pm
8 July - Original - The Dancing Girl
Title: The Dancing Girl
Day/Theme: 8 July – 8 July - "He said it'd be good experience."
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Summary: She wanted to be balancing on the edge of the world
She wanted to join that exalted club of very few - those beauties that walked around in glitter, golds and rubies, hair coiffed and sprayed so no man would be able to dent the style. She thought that if she was one of the chosen few, there would be none of this, this muck in the mud, none of this burn of the muscle and grind of metal that made up her days - the monotony of normalcy.
Her beliefs defied convention and reality, she lived amongst smart passages of conversation caught in time - between doorways, laughter and lipsticked kisses spiralled between soft cheeks and hard jaws. Where people beneath their dark hollows, warm innuendo and split fragmentations, would paste smiles on their faces - would be there to fall away with the clapping and gasps of those poor pitiful's looking upwards.
She wanted to climb up that ladder and cross the worlds, with only a cursory implement for balancing her sways against the non-existent wind, she wanted the chance to prove that she was one of them, she wanted to be beautiful and revel in the hedonistic behaviours, tawdry willingness of the cheap laugh and flirt across the wires, but her relegation was behind the mirror weaving the spells and casting the magic - this was her place, he said until she was old enough to understand and young enough to learn.
Day/Theme: 8 July – 8 July - "He said it'd be good experience."
Series: Original
Rating: PG
Summary: She wanted to be balancing on the edge of the world
She wanted to join that exalted club of very few - those beauties that walked around in glitter, golds and rubies, hair coiffed and sprayed so no man would be able to dent the style. She thought that if she was one of the chosen few, there would be none of this, this muck in the mud, none of this burn of the muscle and grind of metal that made up her days - the monotony of normalcy.
Her beliefs defied convention and reality, she lived amongst smart passages of conversation caught in time - between doorways, laughter and lipsticked kisses spiralled between soft cheeks and hard jaws. Where people beneath their dark hollows, warm innuendo and split fragmentations, would paste smiles on their faces - would be there to fall away with the clapping and gasps of those poor pitiful's looking upwards.
She wanted to climb up that ladder and cross the worlds, with only a cursory implement for balancing her sways against the non-existent wind, she wanted the chance to prove that she was one of them, she wanted to be beautiful and revel in the hedonistic behaviours, tawdry willingness of the cheap laugh and flirt across the wires, but her relegation was behind the mirror weaving the spells and casting the magic - this was her place, he said until she was old enough to understand and young enough to learn.