Flames burst from her head, but are held in thrall by the tie behind her head, the licking tongues of orange fire in her ponytail blown gently in the breeze.
Her bow, never more than a quantum instant from her fingers, holds a menace all its own. A pluck of its string produces a tone, a song, the twang of another life ended, the note of battle. Each
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Comments 67
Her head is on fire? That's all I got from that!
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Man, I hear that. My unearthly beauty needs carbs and electrolytes by mid-afternoon or it just stops working.
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And I haet it when a description tells me how I'm supposed to feel. Guess what, Binky, you don't get to decide that!
Maybe my guy hates beautiful people. Maybe he's a bitter misanthrope who'd rather gouge out her eyes while wearing a tutu on top of unwashed lederhosen.
Speshul snowflakes make me sad.
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Haet Exalted, but that's just me. I get the reference.
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Maybe my guy hates beautiful people. Maybe he's a bitter misanthrope who'd rather gouge out her eyes while wearing a tutu on top of unwashed lederhosen.
Another thing: what is considered beautiful in one culture might be considered butt ugly in another like this one tribe that distends ears and bottom lips with flat wooden disks to "be more beautiful" or an African tribe that stretch their necks with special necklaces.
How many times are we inundated with what we're supposed to find "beautiful"? Or are told that this person/thing or that person/thing is "beautiful" irl?
Please excuse my off-topic rant.
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