She walked around like a ball of night; her heavy frame covered from top to toe in black. That which wasn’t – her silver watch and hematite bracelet – still emanated a cold and emotionless impression of a woman either too cold or too shy to reach; either way, impenetrable.
For the undecided (those who actually noticed her and took the time), some truth to who she was lay in her eyes, for they were the most expressive part of her. She could switch from a look of sincere warmth to one of undiluted evil before your blood knew it had frozen. She was aware of it, but didn’t understand just why that particular one remained with people, and was the one that she believed people felt represented who she was. Although bemused, she was slightly insulted by this, for she possessed both of these personality traits - essentially warm but with a mischievous streak – and a plethora of differently shaded facets in between.
Her mannerisms and silent energy only impressed to those who knew her intimately – and they were few. The slow rhythm of her walk was largely unnoticeable, but noticeable by the fact that it was not what one would expect and subtly different from those that busied around her. It could be mistaken for lazy, but her stillness – and when she wasn’t still, her light, yet slow, lucidity exuded understated grace was impressive.
She spoke usually only when she had something to say. This gave her an air of confidence, but her natural confidence had died a long time ago. When she spoke she tended to know what she was talking about – she was certainly intelligent and worldy-wise. She knew how to talk in whatever company, but was generally afraid to do so because she knew that she didn’t fit in whatever company. Those from a, “better” background would think her as common, and those from a similar background to her – a working class Londoner – would think she thought she was better than them. Either way they would think she was above herself.
For the undecided (those who actually noticed her and took the time), some truth to who she was lay in her eyes, for they were the most expressive part of her. She could switch from a look of sincere warmth to one of undiluted evil before your blood knew it had frozen. She was aware of it, but didn’t understand just why that particular one remained with people, and was the one that she believed people felt represented who she was. Although bemused, she was slightly insulted by this, for she possessed both of these personality traits - essentially warm but with a mischievous streak – and a plethora of differently shaded facets in between.
Her mannerisms and silent energy only impressed to those who knew her intimately – and they were few. The slow rhythm of her walk was largely unnoticeable, but noticeable by the fact that it was not what one would expect and subtly different from those that busied around her. It could be mistaken for lazy, but her stillness – and when she wasn’t still, her light, yet slow, lucidity exuded understated grace was impressive.
She spoke usually only when she had something to say. This gave her an air of confidence, but her natural confidence had died a long time ago. When she spoke she tended to know what she was talking about – she was certainly intelligent and worldy-wise. She knew how to talk in whatever company, but was generally afraid to do so because she knew that she didn’t fit in whatever company. Those from a, “better” background would think her as common, and those from a similar background to her – a working class Londoner – would think she thought she was better than them. Either way they would think she was above herself.
2 comments:
I like..
aw, thanks! :-D
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