Brielle is not the one that is (ouverte) wrote in rooms,
Re: Marvel: Wren and "Brielle"
From the end of the slide, she unfurled. Was it a trick of the sunlight or did she seem taller somehow? The posture was different. She seemed slightly hollow and malnourished, this harbinger of the city's apocalypse. Charcoal denim slumped on bonegrinder boots, and aside from the fact that Brielle was not one to wear black, there was nothing strange or distasteful about her ensemble. Leather gloved knuckles curled, keeping the lighter in the palm of her hand as Wren swished with beads and beauty before her. There was no surprise to be found in Nora's eyes or in the slow twitch of her smile.
"As do you, cousine." The accent was off, falling a linchpin short of authenticity.
Something about her was hard to connect with, like talking to a woman behind glass. Of course, these two had once had conversations behind glass. The bleached-out, noxious smell of prison was not forgotten by Nora. She lifted her chin in order to pierce her lips with a cigarette. The zippo brought fire, and in its brief light, she was a vision of a terrifying goddess; half woman, half child of ancient Rome's Vulcan.
She was like hell on heels, this woman. Hardly a woman at all, something much different, something much darker. Nora inhaled and gestured for Wren to take a seat beside her on the adjoined slide, as she sat again. This was just a casual run-in between two old friends, as evidenced by the caustic curl of her pale lips. "How have you been?" The words were marketed by a vague motion of her gloved hand, although she didn't really care.