fleur delacour is a classy lady. (alluring) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-04-30 12:25:00 |
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The way she walked as she moved into the room was like a feather in air. Floating, fluid. A twist as she stopped, slipping out of the heels and fur that had draped across her shoulders. Another turn when she paused to set her journal to the side. She drifted to settle on the small vanity bench before the mirror in the room she shared with William. Grey eyes stared back at grey skin and hair, all unique shades but none of them important. The eyes in the mirror shifted over her shoulder to the figure sitting on the bed behind her, her hands worrying at the hat and pins in her hair as she watched him.
This style, thrust upon her by the experiment, was fitting, a graceful appearance for a graceful woman. The experiment itself, she found, was equally fitting. Fleur knew what it was to think more than could be said, and this brought those thoughts out fluently. Nothing mattered, though. All futile, all small in comparison to the worries on her mind.
The removal of the last silver pin sent curls down her back, over the silky grey satin of her dress. Running a brush through it to untangle rebellious pieces, she kept her eyes on William, who rippled with aching even as he sat still. Returning the brush to the top of the vanity, her lips curled downward like a curl of smoke. “William, you must stop blaming yourself,” she said, her voice a soft, clear cut through the air like a warm knife through butter. She moved from her seat to the window, looking out into the simulation of a rainstorm with a clouded brow to match.