((Hey all! Please feel free to jump in and join me if you like, or I shall simply keep adding pieces as the inspiration hits))
Nica: http://i40.tinypic.com/205z4.png
Pale white, skin of the moon, she seldom shows her teeth. Eyes aglow; shimmering gold - minute observations made beneath layers of distance as vast as the Thanalan desert sands surrounding the city she was in.
Nica, by name; Keeper of the Moon, and prowler of night - distant in soul as the stars shining quietly over the Ul'dah streets. A bundle of cute and tragedy wrapped in a petite, five foot frame. She walked with a shuffling, directionless, stumble as the blood on her side dripped through her robe and touched in rhythmic splashes onto the dry sand beneath her bare feet.
Slumping against a wall; her hand guided her, seeing what her eyes could not. Not that she was blind, but the great golden orbs that were her pupils stared unfocused, while her hand clutched her side. Sticky. Wet. She lifted the bloody palm in front of her face and slowly blinked. As the nighttime activities of the shady city-state went unnoticed around her, she sat with a plop. Her legs no longer seemed to work.
She stared at them; watched her toes move, and wondered who these feet belonged to.
"Who am I?" She asked.
My Soul to Keep
Nica: http://i40.tinypic.com/205z4.png
Pale white, skin of the moon, she seldom shows her teeth. Eyes aglow; shimmering gold - minute observations made beneath layers of distance as vast as the Thanalan desert sands surrounding the city she was in.
Nica, by name; Keeper of the Moon, and prowler of night - distant in soul as the stars shining quietly over the Ul'dah streets. A bundle of cute and tragedy wrapped in a petite, five foot frame. She walked with a shuffling, directionless, stumble as the blood on her side dripped through her robe and touched in rhythmic splashes onto the dry sand beneath her bare feet.
Slumping against a wall; her hand guided her, seeing what her eyes could not. Not that she was blind, but the great golden orbs that were her pupils stared unfocused, while her hand clutched her side. Sticky. Wet. She lifted the bloody palm in front of her face and slowly blinked. As the nighttime activities of the shady city-state went unnoticed around her, she sat with a plop. Her legs no longer seemed to work.
She stared at them; watched her toes move, and wondered who these feet belonged to.
"Who am I?" She asked.