For the past hour, Rosalie had felt compelled to join the dancing figures on the floor. Maybe it was the flashing lights...but whatever it was, it had worked, because she was there.
Her long auburn hair had been wound into a single curl, which was bound into a ponytail with a gold satin ribbon. The single, thick, curl hung over her bare shoulder, and down the front of her lace, and gold satin dress, which hung to her knees.
As she moved around the perimeter of dancing students, her strappy gold, stiletto's clicked sharply on the floor. The noise was the typical announcement of her presence in any place. She had been in heals since she was eleven as a desperate attempt to gain a few inches. These particular heals were a good two inches taller than what she usually wore, but she wasn't the least bit phased.
__________________
“Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I'm not perfect and I don't live to be.
But, before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean.”
Marti Adele Carter Werewolf Support Services - Cambri Mikaila Hale 14 Slytherin |