Most would agree that Vanity Eidolon wasn't anything spectacular, or worth marvelling at. She didn't come from a particularly well off family, nor did she live in an elaborate district, and she certainly wasn't any kind of prodigy with a defining talent that separated her from everybody else. She had no interest in sticking out from the crowd. Hidden away was where she wished to stay. Obscured, out of the spot light. In fact, her only specifying feature was her inexplicable appearance, not what most would consider normal. Not conventionally unattractive by any means, granted. Vanity grew up with the knowledge that she didn't fit the mould from a young age.
She was a small, dainty girl, bearing a willowy build and a light complexion, dappled with golden freckles dusted upon the entirety of her body. She was all lissom curves and a delicate femininity. Her hair was waved, and passed her shoulders in tresses of pink, framing her refined face. It was white, at birth, however Lydia agreed to let her dye it once she started middle school. There was always a clear presence of something seraphic reposing within her expression. Her features were slight and cherubic, a small, turned up nose and saccharine sweet lips. However it was her heavily lashed eyes which were the most mystifying part of her exterior- they were striking, having distinctly pink irises while one sclera was jet black, and her pupils had taken the shape of twin hearts.
People often mistook them as contact lenses, and it was an easy mistake to make. Her mother had always jokingly called her a prospect because of her eyes, though she regarded her with a sort of nostalgic fondness since she was a child. Lydia had raised her into an average home, though she was a single mother, and the two of them lived together in a modest apartment in the suburbs. She was a sick woman, suffering at the hands of a stroke which had meant she was prescribed daily medication in hopes to reduce the risk of another occurring. She fought long and hard with depression throughout her pregnancy and, for as long as Vanity could remember, they lived with her grandmother as Lydia couldn't bear to get out of her bed most days.
But she got the help she needed. She managed to get a job at a small cafe not far from where their apartment. It wasn't a particularly well paying job and they didn't always have heaps of money behind them, but her mother worked full time as a waitress and they made do with what they had. The two of them had no necessity for materialistic items when they had a stable relationship on the basis of trust and mutual affection. It was what they both desired over any luxuries or expenses.
They had each other. And, for the most part, they were happy.
YOU ARE READING
Girl of the Unorthodox (UNDER REVISION)
Ficción General((POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: mentions overdosing, strong detailed violence, occasional elements of gore and angst, please read at one's own discretion)) EDIT: TWs still apply. i haven't touched this pile of shit since last year so i'm revisiting it...
