(no subject)
Enter one terribly confused one-armed man. Though you may not know he's a man for the lacy lilac bra and panty set he's wearing, not to mention the sheer fishnet knee-highs and gauzy shawl to match. His waist length hair is in a strange state, curled in places and relaxed in others as if he'd forgotten one way or the other, mascara smudgy and thick under silver press-on eyelashes (one of which is falling off).
He readjusts his sunglasses over the mess and looks around; he recognizes this place, but he can't quite place the memory... nor can he remember where he left his boots. He seems distraught, and tired, though mostly the latter as he stumbles through the dim lighting (he may be a little tipsy, but who's counting) looking for a kind soul.
( od)
He readjusts his sunglasses over the mess and looks around; he recognizes this place, but he can't quite place the memory... nor can he remember where he left his boots. He seems distraught, and tired, though mostly the latter as he stumbles through the dim lighting (he may be a little tipsy, but who's counting) looking for a kind soul.
( od)