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Name: Rose/Michele | Gender: A Woe to Man | Posts: 1,716 | Roses: 220
Old 07-17-2011 at 05:16 AM
Wandering Child
Das ist ein Bingo!

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Roaming Dungeons
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OOC: For Dorian and Chianna! BIC:

Chianna Mimieux

Summer was muggy. It stuck her clothes against her body. Made her feel filthy. She was filthy, but she didn’t like feeling filthy, at least not now. The opera house had air conditioning, but all the bodies kept the air warm and sticky. Chianna didn’t like it. She hated people. People hated her. It was a social contract. She hated the other people in her chorus, especially the girls and women. They made her sick. She felt sick around them. It made her sick not being able to yell at them or push them or throw them to the ground and spit on their glass faces. She hated them. The men she hated a little less only because she knew what they had to offer. Business was pleasure.

Chianna ran her finger along the ground. It was cold and the dirt and the dust stuck to her moist hand. She cocked her head and drew a clumsy circle. What was it? She didn’t know yet. Her finger was the artist as well as the paintbrush. It made a few lines around the outside, a few dots here and there, a squiggle to accent the rest. Then she brushed it all away with her dirty palm.

She closed her eyes and smelled the air. It was damp, but it was cold, so it was nice. Not like upstairs where the air smelled like other people – people she hated. This smelled old and was heavy in her nose in a good way. “La la la!” She yelled off key and hoarsely across the water. When the sound came back, she giggled and stretched her arms up way over her head. That was a good sound. Not like the music upstairs. Those stupid chorus girls. She couldn’t stand them. Why was she employed here? Only her other self knew.

Chianna continued singing as she wrapped her hair up in a messy bun and took off her blue blouse and black pants, leaving her in her undershirt and underclothes. As she leapt into the lake, she kept singing. When her body hit the surface, she stopped at the cold shock. Her voice restarted its nonsense tune again as she resurfaced and lay back, letting her warm body cool down as she floated on the surface of the lake. She kept singing. If you could call it singing.

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