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| *The roar of a motorcycle rips through the air, along with the sound of some loud, unidentafiable industrial New Age band. The motorcycle pulls into the parking lot across from the temple and then cuts off, along with the music. Footsteps sound as the person approaches the Temple and enters silently, smirking cockily. She has short, spikey blonde hair, streaked with black and silver highlights. The bangs flop into her eyes, and add a sense of childish devil-may-care attitude to her beauty. Her eyes are a bright, ocean blue, clear as the sky in Iowa, and glittering with mischevious joi-de-vivre. Her form is incongruent with her eyes, which seem older than she looks, as if having seen many things, her soul is weathered. She seems caught between womanly maturity and childish naivete, hovering on the brink of the precipice of adulthood. Her style is odd to say the least, and outlandish as most would describe it. She jogs down the Temple stairs, her ankle-length black lace skirt swishing around her silver fishnet covered legs. Her top is the color of antique silver, shimmering dully in the lights, and accenting her less than impressive bosom. A multitude of silver and ebony bangles ring her arms and 5 matching earrings peirce both her ears, along with one through her lower lip. Her boots are ankle high, black and silver 40 hole Docs, painted in a checker board pattern. Both of her eyes are lined in black and silver, lashes covered with silver mascara, and lips darkened with a tarnished silver lipstick. She walks towards the CoA table, her chain tattoos run down the length of her face, and in fact they outline her body, the left one slender, delicate and silver, entertwined with tiny black roses, the right strong, rusty and thick, entertwined with barbed wire.*www.geocities.com/dawndevilgirl/Bethie.html |
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