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Date Posted: 16:19:42 07/20/01 Fri
Author: Harlen
Subject: No Subject

Just smack me if I made any assumptions about the scenery or whatever.

An ancient road, starting at the city limits, bisects the entire cleanly in half without turning once. The majority of the road is in poor condition (some parts even having collapsed buildings and other such rubble upon it) but a mile-long section that passes the newly-erected "holy building" along its right wall has been repaired and restored to the original condition. Most garbage and other refuse of a dying city has been since cleared from the way, leaving a clean avenue of access for the patrons of the Church.

That road separates a series of old apartments from the property claimed by Church, and those who are desperate for their next session with the so-called Transcendent One have been known to take up a temporary residence in the decaying apartment buildings. Between two of these buildings, neither of which are unoccupied, a slim girl leans against a corner and peers up at the hologram above the Church of Neuracomp. Her emerald optics study the hands clasped in the air, then blink and languidly pull away to study the peculiar construction of the building itself. Her skin is pale, and her face is delicate and angular. Light blond hair, almost white, hangs down to the nape of her neck in the back. Around the sides the strands are the same length, a center part keeping the hair from obstructing her view. It stays relatively styled and it doesn't seem like the girl seems worried about messing it up, which probably attests to the presence of hair gel or hairspray.

A stray streetlight, one of the few that still functions normally in the city, activates in the deepening darkness and drops a crescent moon of light across her torso. She curses at the sudden brightness and slips a half-step back into the alleyway, into the relative safety of the darkness. She wears a light weight silver jacket over a tight-fitting white tank top. Her bust isn't by any means what anyone would call large, but is proportionate and fits her frame well enough that the lack of size is hardly unattractive. Around her waist is a thin white belt with a silver clasp, holding up a reflective silver skirt that barely makes it past mid-thigh, underneath which a pair of white tights clings to the lithe curves of her legs.

She pulls the jacket tighter around her to block out some of the night's chill and sinks back deeper into the alley, only a faint illumination flooding across her face. For a moment she pauses there, torn between the light and the darkness, her hair seeming to glow under the diminutive glow of the lamp. She looks like something unnatural, a creature of the night daring to peek out of her nocturnal abode and play in the light while no one else is watching. She sinks back against a wall and waits, her eyes rarely leaving the oddly erected building across the twenty feet of road.

It might as well have been twenty miles, for all the good it did her.

Evelynn Andrews

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