01-18-2023, 09:59 PM
[[continued from Vice or Virtue]]
From the bottom of the steps, Visha stared up at the grand building. Spot-lights flared upwards, so that shadows picked out every decadent detail of the frontage. Kallisti. She absorbed it all with a frightful amount of wonder, the intensity of her dark gaze so focused it was almost predatory. Raffe’s stories marched through her head. She pressed her tongue to the tip of a tooth. A small smile flickered.
The dress she’d stolen from the boutique was a deep and electric blue, highly structured in the bodice like form-fitted armour before it swept from the hips. Matching gloves covered all the way past her elbows. In contrast the skin left to show was creamy pale, and its exposure made her feel half-way naked; she was so accustomed to being covered completely. Silvery strands of hair fell loose about her shoulders. Diamonds had been a harder theft. Nonetheless some glinted in her ears. She meant to look utterly perfect.
A line snaked from the doors, containing all manner of beautifully dressed people. Visha could hear the faint promise of music already within, and a shiver tingled. She did not entirely know what to expect. Actually, she’d never been around so many people. But no touching; that was what Raffe had said.
Visha climbed the steps with confidence, utterly sure of herself. She moved with a soundless sort of grace, acutely aware of the eyes that watched her ascent. Delight flushed her through; she realised almost immediately that she enjoyed the attention. Only at the top a man in ugly black barred her way. She was innocent in surprise, a genuine reaction, but it narrowed almost immediately to annoyance.
"I want to come in," she told him. Was that not obvious?
![[Image: vishablue.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/vishablue.jpg)
From the bottom of the steps, Visha stared up at the grand building. Spot-lights flared upwards, so that shadows picked out every decadent detail of the frontage. Kallisti. She absorbed it all with a frightful amount of wonder, the intensity of her dark gaze so focused it was almost predatory. Raffe’s stories marched through her head. She pressed her tongue to the tip of a tooth. A small smile flickered.
The dress she’d stolen from the boutique was a deep and electric blue, highly structured in the bodice like form-fitted armour before it swept from the hips. Matching gloves covered all the way past her elbows. In contrast the skin left to show was creamy pale, and its exposure made her feel half-way naked; she was so accustomed to being covered completely. Silvery strands of hair fell loose about her shoulders. Diamonds had been a harder theft. Nonetheless some glinted in her ears. She meant to look utterly perfect.
A line snaked from the doors, containing all manner of beautifully dressed people. Visha could hear the faint promise of music already within, and a shiver tingled. She did not entirely know what to expect. Actually, she’d never been around so many people. But no touching; that was what Raffe had said.
Visha climbed the steps with confidence, utterly sure of herself. She moved with a soundless sort of grace, acutely aware of the eyes that watched her ascent. Delight flushed her through; she realised almost immediately that she enjoyed the attention. Only at the top a man in ugly black barred her way. She was innocent in surprise, a genuine reaction, but it narrowed almost immediately to annoyance.
"I want to come in," she told him. Was that not obvious?