Forbidden Fruit; ᴇʟιᴊᴀʜ. ᴍ

0.2

{ Caught in My Reflection }

She held her own contemplated gaze in the mirror, her face unnaturally curled as she tried to place what seemed so off about herself in such dim lightning. We're it the long stressful hours of the week taking its toll on her body, or we're it the unsaid words of her head. Igniting and fizzling out in the matter of seconds every time she began to put together what the looming gyrations were. She were left more coiled then she started every second that passed, her own company to occupied on the couch to even notice her inner turmoil.

"Thierry," her voice come out lisped, the first letters blurring together into one unique sound as she looked at him through the mirror. Her friend piqued up at the sound of her quivering voice, starring at her in immediate concern beneath the rim of his silly Cap. The Beckett woman dissolved her own words in her mind, considering the misleading conversation that would insure if she were to tell him her woes. She cleared her throat gingerly, pulling from his gaze in the mirror. "What colour should I wear tonight?"

He didn't believe her, she could tell that by the way he sat forward with his weight resting on his knees and his chin on the peaks of his fingers. Though he were also not a man of much push, which reassured Nyla that even now, the blonde man would refuse to push her. "Why are ya' asking me?"

She hummed, shrugging to herself as she re smoothed out the felt of her dresses skirt. The sparkling mesh material that flowed all the way down to her ankles shimmering in the lighting, yet not proposing a smile onto the woman daunting expression. "You're the only one here. Also Diego doesn't date, and Marcel can't get one. You have a girlfriend which means you have to have an opinion on clothes."

Picking up the shimmering material, she twirled on the small podium of which she had been standing on. catching the gaze or the German designer the stood ten feet from her. She inspected her with a keen eye, sizing her up and down to the point that the detective began to question if she could see her soul. Brushing her hair softly from her face, she looked back to Thierry expectantly with the small prodding of her bottom lips tucking between her teeth.

The Vampire looked at her exhaustedly, slowly staggering to his full height as he looked her over indifferently. The dark haired woman reached behind her head and pulled her braids together to example of an up do to pull the dress together. He continued to inspect the whole style together, before making a small tsking sound with his tongue as he rested his hands along her shoulders. "Afraid not on the silver, maybe black or white?"

She smiled at him with her perfect grin, the perfect mix of harmony and calmness at the new found news helping drift her once confusing thoughts away. "Up do?"

"Down, definitely down." He nodded along to his words, his fingers lazily brushing over the length of her shoulder and then biceps before pulling softly away.

Her illuminated gaze drifted away from him and over to the awaiting foreign woman that Marcel had called here as a means of bribery to keep Nyla happy. Of course it were doing nothing, the Detective remained sullen, and the king worried. "Something black, maybe with a tighter frame?"

The greying woman nodded in thoughts, her words lacing with accent as she spoke. "Yes, yes. Very nice hips, good for birthing. You must show them off."

Nyla and Thierry stared blankety at the woman, before each other. Both didn't know how to respond to such an outlandish comment.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

The tanned woman wandered in through the chipping doors with coloured glass, her fingers brushing over possible splinters as she found herself back inside a dimly lit bar as twelve in the afternoon. The Glowing light from the midday sun beamed behind the new figure, recapturing the bar in a former glory. "Cami, oh art thou Cami. For if you did not walk the earth I'd think heaven weren't real."