Post by Drakhaon on Apr 6, 2011 19:23:26 GMT -5
Drakhaon readied herself under candlelight in the Grotto after bathing in sandalwood oil from Santalum album and cleansing herself in one of the eerie coloured pools so when she rose from it the water ran freely from her. Towelling herself dry, she stepped towards the hanging suit that was delivered a mere hours before and trailed a flinger down its packaging lost in thought. He could not be there for this, but he would be in spirit. Ruefully she turned away rubbing the base of her scalp through the cotton to message the water into the towel and pulls out a pair of silk black boxers – hers; then pulls them on snapping the band across her lower abdomen relishing the prickle it left behind.
The vampire dropped to her knees and turned to sit cross legged beside a small circular mirror, a lit candle and a stalk of kohl. The latter of which she lifted, raising it to the flame of the candle to melt it into something more supple then proceeded to apply it around her eyes, reheating it as needed. Satisfied she looked to the mirror, the green on her iris now more prominent and the black of her vertical pupils matched the kohl that encompassed them both. Her thumb and forefinger rose to her full eyebrows and smoothed them out with a little help for the depleted oil still left on her skin.
Drakhaon chuckled realising the voice of Yma Sumac echoed from the walls quietly and motioned for a little more volume as Taki Rari unfolded in the space and she chortled pulling on a predominantly red shirt that changed to black with movement and flicked up the back of its collar to accentuate the plunging neck line. Her hips unconsciously kicking out to the beat then her feet moved to and fro in time in conjunction. She turned on her heel and almost tore the casing from her suit. It was midnight black, plain and tailored to fit her form and pulled on the trousers over femininely muscled legs.
Bending forward, she flicked her head in her hands, vigorously rubbing her fired hair dry as her hips shimmied. The music was infectious. Drakhaon motioned then upright whipping her still damp hair to her back past the curve of her well hugged backside. Turning more sombre as the music changed to Xataby, she began to braid her hair intricately at her temples and ears before fastening it into place with Kirby’s to her crown and base of the skull respectively - knowing it would be dry by the time she reached the Ferrymen’s Grand Ballroom.
With a contemplative nod, she reached for her chest sleeve four inches in thickness and wrapped it about her just below her bosom with the shuriken already in place. A smirk graced her features – a lot of variables could be coming to the event and she felt naked without a weapon. This was hidden by the matching waistcoat she put on. It’s back panel morphing red with movement in contrast to her shirt.
One last thing she stated to herself lifting the leather bracer to her left forearm and fastening it in place and tucked a few indiscernible something’s between it and her skin. Satisfied she turned to leave the Grotto.
The vampire dropped to her knees and turned to sit cross legged beside a small circular mirror, a lit candle and a stalk of kohl. The latter of which she lifted, raising it to the flame of the candle to melt it into something more supple then proceeded to apply it around her eyes, reheating it as needed. Satisfied she looked to the mirror, the green on her iris now more prominent and the black of her vertical pupils matched the kohl that encompassed them both. Her thumb and forefinger rose to her full eyebrows and smoothed them out with a little help for the depleted oil still left on her skin.
Drakhaon chuckled realising the voice of Yma Sumac echoed from the walls quietly and motioned for a little more volume as Taki Rari unfolded in the space and she chortled pulling on a predominantly red shirt that changed to black with movement and flicked up the back of its collar to accentuate the plunging neck line. Her hips unconsciously kicking out to the beat then her feet moved to and fro in time in conjunction. She turned on her heel and almost tore the casing from her suit. It was midnight black, plain and tailored to fit her form and pulled on the trousers over femininely muscled legs.
Bending forward, she flicked her head in her hands, vigorously rubbing her fired hair dry as her hips shimmied. The music was infectious. Drakhaon motioned then upright whipping her still damp hair to her back past the curve of her well hugged backside. Turning more sombre as the music changed to Xataby, she began to braid her hair intricately at her temples and ears before fastening it into place with Kirby’s to her crown and base of the skull respectively - knowing it would be dry by the time she reached the Ferrymen’s Grand Ballroom.
With a contemplative nod, she reached for her chest sleeve four inches in thickness and wrapped it about her just below her bosom with the shuriken already in place. A smirk graced her features – a lot of variables could be coming to the event and she felt naked without a weapon. This was hidden by the matching waistcoat she put on. It’s back panel morphing red with movement in contrast to her shirt.
One last thing she stated to herself lifting the leather bracer to her left forearm and fastening it in place and tucked a few indiscernible something’s between it and her skin. Satisfied she turned to leave the Grotto.
