Purple prose tiem!
I have homework. I do not want to do it. So instead I'm going to fulfill arcanelegacy's challenge. Her preference was to describe oneself in the purplest prose possible, but instead I chose a fictional character. Because I do not know how to describe myself in purple prose.
A woman attempts to walk unnoticed down the seedy Martian street, dressed in all black, sunglasses covering deep sapphire eyes despite the rain. But these efforts are futile.
Even dressed down, it is not hard to see that this woman is beautiful. The kind of classic, understated beautiful that turns heads and leaves the eyes of unsuspecting observers lingering for much longer than they should. A blonde waterfall cascades down her back, standing out brightly against her drab, black jacket. A small pale, trembling hand clings tightly to an umbrella, a crimson beacon in a world of gray.
If you could see her eyes, you'd see a weariness in them. The telltale scars from years of running, years of hiding. There's also a sadness in those depths, conveying stories of love and loss. Those eyes have seen more than those of most women twice her age.
She has arrived at her destination. A breath escapes her, tense, shallow, as she surveys her surroundings one last time. The lines that had set into her face disappear, leaving only smooth contours of ivory in their place.
She'll be safe. For one more night.
A woman attempts to walk unnoticed down the seedy Martian street, dressed in all black, sunglasses covering deep sapphire eyes despite the rain. But these efforts are futile.
Even dressed down, it is not hard to see that this woman is beautiful. The kind of classic, understated beautiful that turns heads and leaves the eyes of unsuspecting observers lingering for much longer than they should. A blonde waterfall cascades down her back, standing out brightly against her drab, black jacket. A small pale, trembling hand clings tightly to an umbrella, a crimson beacon in a world of gray.
If you could see her eyes, you'd see a weariness in them. The telltale scars from years of running, years of hiding. There's also a sadness in those depths, conveying stories of love and loss. Those eyes have seen more than those of most women twice her age.
She has arrived at her destination. A breath escapes her, tense, shallow, as she surveys her surroundings one last time. The lines that had set into her face disappear, leaving only smooth contours of ivory in their place.
She'll be safe. For one more night.