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(RP) Plaited

Discussion in 'UO Baja' started by Trae Markwood, May 13, 2012.

  1. "It's almost over now, Sweet." Soft and tender, Trae cooed as she held the strands of long black hair in her left hand lovingly. In her right she gripped a weathered and cracked oak handle hairbrush made from porcupine quills. Gently, she gripped a handful holding it in place as she ran the quills through the strands. There hadn't been a tangle to speak of since her arrival.

    "What do you think of the peach lace?" Liquid brown, Paytience eyes remained fixated on an unknown horizon. Trae simply smiled and set the brush to the side before taking the strands at either side of her friends face and pulled them back behind her head where she began to intertwine them. "Maybe with the chocolate colored dress?"

    Easy, the conversation progressed as though the silence were accentuated with comments from the woman in the chair. Words were heard, even if only air existed as it was breathed in and out."You'll need the flats of course. You've been off heels for awhile. You remember the stairs in Britain?" Laughter echoed in the room. "I don't think your Mother ever got over the shock of seeing you in a heap on her prized Poodle. Yes, I know it was Jamison's fault but really, you've never been very good on heels."

    As she last piece of jet black was wrapped around and under, a low melodic tone filled the space between them as Trae's hand came to rest on Paytience shoulder, pulling her closeto rock her gently.

    "Spinnin', laughing, Dancing..
    To her favorite song.
    A little girl with nothing wrong.
    Is all alone."
    "Eyes wide open
    Always hoping for the sun
    And she'll sing her song to anyone
    That comes along"
    As the lyrics finished, she closed her eyes. "Never alone." A hushed whisper.. the song began again...​
    *Lyrics.. are from Norah Jones- Seven Years as that is what I think of when I write this.*
  2. Fleeting.

    Whispers tossed carelessly, reverberating off fluid-like solitary walls. They bounce and they roll with no coherence. Beckoning tendrils of flesh and paint against a backdrop of heavy oak. Movement unobscured, unhindered by reservations or limited by consequence. In a world of pastel sound and battened swirled images, the hand reaches for something solid.

    Something Familiar.

    Something... beyond the boundary of customary travel.

    The words slip from her lips as water from a creek bed over rocks of smooth surface worn well by time. "I'm coming..."
  3. "What do you mean she's gone?" She couldn't hide the edge of panic rising in her voice. Emilio's shoulders shrugged up helplessly."She's a VEGETABLE! Carrots do not just get up and walk away"

    "This one did."

    "You should have stopped her! Was she talking? Was she alert? Was she...." Sticking her hand out to keep from falling on her face in stun, Trae took a deep breath in. Painters stopped their brushes mid stroke, the tiny hairs pointed in her direction as they waited with expectant grins for the thunk that would have followed her curvy frame landing on the stone floor. Frowns replaced them when they realized she was still very much upright. Her eyes closed tight against the implications of Paytience departure. "Did you bother to follow her out? See where she was headed?"

    Emilio's answer was a soft shake of his head.

    "No. ... that would have been too much like what we paid you to do." Shoving hard she pushed off the wall and regained her balance. Thomas... she was going to have to tell Thomas...