maram does not grant wishes. (wishless) wrote in darkcarnivale, @ 2012-01-06 01:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | maram uzma, tabbart crumb |
WHO: Maram Uzma & OPEN.
WHAT: Mara would like a drink.
WHERE: The Burlesque tent.
WHEN: This evening (Thursday) - close to midnight.
RATING / STATUS: PG or higher... / Incomplete - open.
Finely manicured nails slid over the rim of her martini glass, perfect note resonating from the glass as the music playing for the dancers quickly drowns it out. Dark eyes were alert, but hardly giving any of the patrons of the burlesque tent any notice. Maram was content being a fly on the wall for the evening, enjoying her dry martini alone. She wasn't quite sure what drew her to the burlesque tent. It wasn't the women, that was for sure -- and it wasn't the men for that matter either. The atmosphere was familiar to her, like a dream she lived millennial ago. The blush of young women and men, both flush with emotions. Lust practically permeating through the entire tent. The unsure young men, barely old enough to enter, attempting to grope their way through tented pants. The smells, Holy Hell, the smells. They were intoxicating and covered Mara's senses like a security blanket. Maram wasn't interested in the dancers, nor was she interested in the patrons. Mara wanted the scent, she wanted the raw emotion to feed off and feel.
Finishing off her martini, she plucked the olive from the glass and tapped her ring against the glass. Despite the overpowering sound of music and girls giggling, the sound was able to get the attention of the bartender. Pointing to her glass, she nodded towards the tender, motioning for another drink. Popping the olive in her mouth, she tasted the alcohol still lingering on the olive.
One sinfully long leg extended and crossed over the other. The woman was intimidatingly large. Not overweight, or obese but rather huge in the fact that she was part giant. Her height was remarkable in and of itself. Six feet seven inches, that's not including the heels she was currently wearing. Despite her height and size, Maram was dressed to the nines. Designer clothing hugged her body like a second skin. A pencil skirt showed off perfect curves and the top left very little to the imagination. Black hair was left down around her shoulders and cascading down her back. She was quite the vision, something that Mother Nature never intended to create, but there she was. A one of a kind half-giant, half-jinn. Her jinn lineage was visible in her features, her skin flawless and coppery and those eyes. Large, inquisitive and like a serpent staring directly through you into your soul.
Mara was a powerhouse of abilities, but yet, the only position at this carnival she desired was the personnel manager. It was a position that required skills of the mind, not powers. She knew she was by far more powerful than these mere children at the carnival, she had no desire to prove herself.
With a new drink in hand, Mara took a sip. Her Thursday evenings now consisted of her sitting at the bar in the burlesque tent. Never in a million years did Maram picture herself here.