Crashed
Crashed
To say “ethereal purity” is redundant, in many ways, but that is the very essence she exudes. When she enters a room, with her delicate blonde hair long and wavy, two small braids encircling her head like nothing short of a halo, she casts a quiet glow of warmth and virtue. She is a soft light under which comfort can always be found. Her gorgeous, grateful green eyes pour innocence into your soul like holy water, and her voice caresses your skin like cool, satin sheets on a summer night.
She remembers one of those summer nights. The moon was full and her skin smelled sweetly of the tan that coated her bare limbs, perfectly complimenting her white sundress. Her blonde hair was straw-like from being in and out of the salty ocean water all day. She laid next to Cedric Diggory, her skin feeling the combination of his soft fingers, her cotton dress, and the terrycloth blanket they laid on. He would kiss her sweetly as they played “connect the dots” with each other’s freckles. They had the same angelic look in their eyes, but his, rather than being that vibrant green, were the identical shade of soft blue as a baby boy’s blanket. Yes, she remembers this night as her black heels click on the wood floor and she makes her subtle, yet, inexplicably grand entrance.
During this particular arrival, the night of her seventh and final Yule Ball, everyone in the room can feel the effects of her diamond smile. She looks to her left and those pure green eyes light up when they meet his. Cedric’s. The freckles on his face contort into a single line while he grins a perfectly white smile and are the perfect physical representation of the innocence in his soul. His smile is as sincere as the gaze they share. She can’t wait to feel her hand in his soft one as they sway on the dance floor. But she can’t move yet, for at this time, she walks in.
Rather than an “ethereal purity,” this girl leaves those in her wake with a feeling of “wild intensity.” Her blinding blonde hair rises and falls in dramatic waves, with two braids fighting to stay in place around her skull. Her eyes are an electric, monstrous green, and they flood the room with wrath. She is the epitome of extremes: bitingly chilling at the same time as she is scaldingly hot, brilliantly bright at the same time as she is deathly dark. She is untouchable, for fear of falling into Hell by taking her hand, but her voice has that conniving, convincing quality that can persuade even the sweetest soul to do her bidding.
She muses to herself about a certain summer night as she enters the room. Her contagiously wicked laugh echoed in Draco Malfoy’s sexy, black car. Her silky black dress was her camouflage, and it was enough to make her appear like a dark ghost on a mischievous night. He laughed with her, high with the feeling of rebellion. The car roared on the hot pavement, faster and faster down the empty highway. Her savage blonde hair whipped around her expertly, cleverly freckled face. His hair, a lighter, more ghostly blonde, would hide his deep eyes when he smiled. His hand felt rough on her knee and it burned her tanned skin. Even in this moment, she can feel her knee prickle at the very thought of his touch. The sensation stretches all the way down to her toes and she taps her black heels on the shiny, wood floor.
Her upper lip curls coyly when she thinks of this night. She looks to her right. Smile smoldering like coal, that animalistic stare collides with his. Draco’s. His sharp incisors bite his bottom lip seductively, just beckoning her to meet his touch again. She itches to turn toward him and take him into the inferno they both know so well, but for now, she is frozen in place.
Each girl has an equally strong impact on the room. The first, with her purely honest and white soul, the other with her misty, dark brand of mystery. It is amazing how similar and how different these two girls act and feel when greeted by the glance of their love. What is even more amazing is how these two girls can live in one body.
Ricochet Nalium.
The blonde hair was both wild and pure. You could see the innocence, or you could see the mischievousness in her eyes, depending on what you were looking for. These two radically different people lived as one within that body. Constantly bickering, but never at war. Coexisting, but torn between what those green eyes will see, and what they wish to convey.
And tonight was the climax, these two girls fighting a raging war in Ricochet’s heart. Follow her innocence, or flirt with her wild side- be with Cedric, be with Draco.
Her feet did the carrying as her mind and her heart tried to pick a person to be. Suddenly, Draco’s smooth voice ceased fire.
“Your mind on something there, Ricochet?” He asked.
Had she walked right up next to him? Without even realizing? Her whole persona had been so occupied for minutes, months, really, with this battle that in the final moments she hadn’t even realized that something deep within her had already chosen. Draco was her chosen one. The wild girl she would be.
Ricochet turned towards Cedric, knowing now that the war was won. With the last look of an angel, the final flash of that ethereal purity, Ricochet mouthed the words “I’m sorry” in Cedric’s direction. The intensely untamed side of her tried to ignore the hurt in those big baby blues.
“You look stuck on something,” Draco continued, placing a hand around her waist.
“No... Not stuck...” Ricochet whispered as she watched Cedric walk away for the final time, while simultaneously indulging in the feeling of Draco’s touch. “More like crashed.”
She remembers one of those summer nights. The moon was full and her skin smelled sweetly of the tan that coated her bare limbs, perfectly complimenting her white sundress. Her blonde hair was straw-like from being in and out of the salty ocean water all day. She laid next to Cedric Diggory, her skin feeling the combination of his soft fingers, her cotton dress, and the terrycloth blanket they laid on. He would kiss her sweetly as they played “connect the dots” with each other’s freckles. They had the same angelic look in their eyes, but his, rather than being that vibrant green, were the identical shade of soft blue as a baby boy’s blanket. Yes, she remembers this night as her black heels click on the wood floor and she makes her subtle, yet, inexplicably grand entrance.
During this particular arrival, the night of her seventh and final Yule Ball, everyone in the room can feel the effects of her diamond smile. She looks to her left and those pure green eyes light up when they meet his. Cedric’s. The freckles on his face contort into a single line while he grins a perfectly white smile and are the perfect physical representation of the innocence in his soul. His smile is as sincere as the gaze they share. She can’t wait to feel her hand in his soft one as they sway on the dance floor. But she can’t move yet, for at this time, she walks in.
Rather than an “ethereal purity,” this girl leaves those in her wake with a feeling of “wild intensity.” Her blinding blonde hair rises and falls in dramatic waves, with two braids fighting to stay in place around her skull. Her eyes are an electric, monstrous green, and they flood the room with wrath. She is the epitome of extremes: bitingly chilling at the same time as she is scaldingly hot, brilliantly bright at the same time as she is deathly dark. She is untouchable, for fear of falling into Hell by taking her hand, but her voice has that conniving, convincing quality that can persuade even the sweetest soul to do her bidding.
She muses to herself about a certain summer night as she enters the room. Her contagiously wicked laugh echoed in Draco Malfoy’s sexy, black car. Her silky black dress was her camouflage, and it was enough to make her appear like a dark ghost on a mischievous night. He laughed with her, high with the feeling of rebellion. The car roared on the hot pavement, faster and faster down the empty highway. Her savage blonde hair whipped around her expertly, cleverly freckled face. His hair, a lighter, more ghostly blonde, would hide his deep eyes when he smiled. His hand felt rough on her knee and it burned her tanned skin. Even in this moment, she can feel her knee prickle at the very thought of his touch. The sensation stretches all the way down to her toes and she taps her black heels on the shiny, wood floor.
Her upper lip curls coyly when she thinks of this night. She looks to her right. Smile smoldering like coal, that animalistic stare collides with his. Draco’s. His sharp incisors bite his bottom lip seductively, just beckoning her to meet his touch again. She itches to turn toward him and take him into the inferno they both know so well, but for now, she is frozen in place.
Each girl has an equally strong impact on the room. The first, with her purely honest and white soul, the other with her misty, dark brand of mystery. It is amazing how similar and how different these two girls act and feel when greeted by the glance of their love. What is even more amazing is how these two girls can live in one body.
Ricochet Nalium.
The blonde hair was both wild and pure. You could see the innocence, or you could see the mischievousness in her eyes, depending on what you were looking for. These two radically different people lived as one within that body. Constantly bickering, but never at war. Coexisting, but torn between what those green eyes will see, and what they wish to convey.
And tonight was the climax, these two girls fighting a raging war in Ricochet’s heart. Follow her innocence, or flirt with her wild side- be with Cedric, be with Draco.
Her feet did the carrying as her mind and her heart tried to pick a person to be. Suddenly, Draco’s smooth voice ceased fire.
“Your mind on something there, Ricochet?” He asked.
Had she walked right up next to him? Without even realizing? Her whole persona had been so occupied for minutes, months, really, with this battle that in the final moments she hadn’t even realized that something deep within her had already chosen. Draco was her chosen one. The wild girl she would be.
Ricochet turned towards Cedric, knowing now that the war was won. With the last look of an angel, the final flash of that ethereal purity, Ricochet mouthed the words “I’m sorry” in Cedric’s direction. The intensely untamed side of her tried to ignore the hurt in those big baby blues.
“You look stuck on something,” Draco continued, placing a hand around her waist.
“No... Not stuck...” Ricochet whispered as she watched Cedric walk away for the final time, while simultaneously indulging in the feeling of Draco’s touch. “More like crashed.”