[color=gray][CENTER][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/1nK0qO9nPUw9JPoig91UF6?si=ba15cf867843446b][img]https://i.imgur.com/DxXCQ1u.jpg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=978184][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]The Augmented Reality Center - Pacific Royal Collegiate & University, Dundas Island[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#978184][b]Dance Monkey #4.046:[/b][/COLOR] [I]i looked the future in the eyes, it's mine.[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center][INDENT][sub][color=#978184][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] -[/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#978184][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=gray][I]between shadows and light.[/I][/color][/right][/SUP]
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The world was often beholden to the impression and influence that was Amma Cahors.
 
It melded into a massive construct of red, donned in touches of silver and banked with deep obsidian that gleamed with ashen remains; it swelled therein with potential, need, and a yearning for omnipotence. An almighty being that raged with appetence, hunger, a void that demanded to be sated, a glutton for the sweltering energy that permeated the air with every sharp rap of her heels onto the pavement, every swish of silk with a trailing skirt that fanned around the golden sheen of her thighs; a cape of shadow, of night eternal, woven through with a smattering of promise and intention. Alone but all-encompassing in every swagger, a near march into a field of unknown where the moon fell upon her, mocked her in all that resplendent silver, highlighted those scars, and delicately flashed at the white pinned temporarily to her dress until she would pin it onto another. There was a particular whorl of energy that linked through her gestures, herself so in tune with the wiles of the world that suspended itself from the emotional coil that flexed betwixt flesh and bone, spun through in leagues of damning red that sluggishly crawled over her skin, down her legs, sparking to life with each step made.

Amma had stopped by her dorm one final time to drop off her things; the letters were still left there, her old uniform haunting the space on her bed, and the usual grace of her room malformed by the lingering emotes of anguish represented in the shattered tiles and scarlet lances. Another time, though, to acknowledge the disparity of her past and the lies it was built of, she would find her answers eventually (the fog of her memories be damned), but the night had beckoned, and so she had taken the letters, her uniform next, and hid them away.

What was and had been and thus came to be: a concept of circumstance that may have taken life away from her, but she would take it back without forgiveness and without regret. And it started here.

The Alexandria Foundation had its dances, of course. Stories she had heard about with many nights of revelry that celebrated assorted achievements of impending graduation that she had not been privy to. As she admitted to the girls, it was all lost upon her, for she had been taken, locked, down into the dark often during these times, more so in the last few years (what she can remember); jollification traded for sheering agony and screams for the hated prick of burning liquid that fled through veins. The oozing black that fell from eyes of glowing blue, the tears of hate and blood and death she wore as a child, a teenager, an adult. 

Just a girl.

Throngs of seniors led the way to the A.R.C, some paired, some in groups, a few that lingered there with familiar glances that fled her way almost instantly, each panning eye that swept over her embellished physique for all she revealed, and she relished in it. Amma smiled, a slumberous and vulpine simper that broke across her usual glaring facade, a carefully softened curl of her full lips that she had added to with a final swipe of rouge onto her pout. She blended it out into a soft bloom of a rose-like color, the warmth of the ruby undertones taken to her usual pale lip color, just that final touch she needed. Here, she was more than the terrifying transfer student, more than the brutally angry representative of wrath, and more than the in-between and the unknown. She was [i]Amma[/i]. Her name that is not her name scoured through the night, ruthless in abandon, a fixation onto the minds of others as she carved that path through the glow of the night.

A senior from Myotis stopped her and asked her if she had a date. Amma denied it– claimed she didn’t need one.
Another senior from Gulo paused to ask her for a dance later. She laughed.
Another from the house of Lynx claimed to have seen her the previous night and bravely asked her to save him a spot on the dancefloor. Amma smiled and simply said, [color=#978184]“It’s not your room I was in last night, was it?”[/color]

Was it the subtle seduction of an evening of promise that found courage through the gatherings of people here, a myriad of colors before her eyes as she wove herself into the student body with relative ease. A contortionist aptitude that allowed her lithe figure to sweep through as admiration dawned upon her glances at the bold decor with those daring reds, darling golds, and contrasting blacks; looking further in was a herald back to a time of rapid fashion, the ornamentation a uniqueness she appreciated even if such could be likened to a near gaudy affair. Amma marked the velvet rope and stanchions that made up the entryway, complete with a red carpet; was this what it meant for the glamorous of Hollywood? She glanced over her shoulder; the exaggeration and elaborateness swept up many. Noted by the height of their laughter, eagerness compounded through their steps whilst she lingered there, scanning the crowd perhaps though she would deny the flutter of her lashes as she studied the space around her. 

Amma subtly ran her fingers through her mane of hair, shaking the waves back and exposing her slender shoulders. She was prepared to enter the A.R.C. alone if not for the familiar voice that suddenly called to her, causing her to turn and offer her profile for the interesting eyes that trailed down her figure. 
 


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