KeairaThe hotel room had a warm, sultry red glow, the same as the woman’s dress. Her beautiful deep blue eyes held a gold, sliver like ring around the pupil. Her creamy skin was perfect, not a single flaw on her luscious body, with all of its curves. She had a pair of cat ears, the left one pierced with two gold rings, and twin cat tails as well, a rare Halfling breed. There was a half smirk on her lips as she leaned forward onto the table, her breasts prominently showing through the heart shaped cut on her dressKeaira by ThatOneSniperGuy
"So, Keaira~" She began in her normally sultry purr "Why DID you call me here~?"
The women she spoke to sat across from her, her knee high black leather boots were crossed on top of the table in the booth like set up. Keaira was leaning back, her black corset visible from underneath her open leather jacket, her piercing red eyes glaring over the women from under her blonde and platinum streaked hair
"I made my rules of protection very clear..."
"Oh, so I broke a few rule
Broken (The Truth)Shades, again. I snap up, the warmth of last night’s falsities rolling off onto warm chill. Time. Shit, that human aspect I’m slave, but not, too. 6 am. Two hours of sleep. Typical. The icy restructured blue glow wakes me, a stirring migraine dances my mind onto soft, drugged pain. The shades, there they are. I grow heavy as my blood thickens, and then I’m gone.Broken (The Truth) by ThatOneSniperGuy
This process, I am slave. Since her death, I grew up. Since he left, I grew up. And when he was replaced, what was I to do, become a child again? Nay. I killed her. I started up my mistake. I loved. Never get attached to things. That’s what makes parting hard. You don’t let people know. Why? You obviously haven’t experienced it if you have to ask.
“Be happy. Life’s good” No it isn’t. If it was, we would all be drinking some rainbow stew under a sky of blue. I’m not a pessimist, I just see the truth. I don’t sugar coat it, I say it how it happened. If that
Waiting I remember the first time I noticed Gertrude. She had been there for as long as I could remember, part of the scenery, a statue that barely registered. I was five and she was already old, though she never seemed to age. She was sitting on the curb surrounded by weathered pink luggage and I felt, for the first time, a quicksilver curiosity about her.Waiting by AGMeade
"Mommy, why does that lady have all those bags?" I tugged on my mother's hand and pointed at the woman not far from us. "Is she going someplace?"
"Quiet, Crystal!" Her voice was a low hiss and she pulled me closer to her side. I stared at the woman as we hurried past. She was still, like stone, her face was sunken and etched with deep lines. "Hello, Ms. Thompson."
She looked up at us, her eyes wide and gl