Thread: [â] eyes as candles - {dream+nymph}

The Auburn Public Museum was a very modernly built building the inside was composed primarily of over polished cherrywood walls and massive, over-sized sunset windows. To underground artists trying to make it big or simply establish themselves as true connoisseurs of the arts, this was the place to show off. A woman stood inside, surrounded by suave looking men she was tall and and exotic looking with intense, ginger-ale colored eyes and luscious, soft looking lips. She was the artist known as Johnta Romaine, a brilliant artisan and 'professional idealist'. So you painted this? one of the men inquired, sipping gingerly at his wine. The black-haired woman that boasted a wondrous lion's mane batted her illustrious eyelashes and redirected her gaze towards the canvas. It was an extremely detailed depiction of a terrarium of exotic flowers. Johnta merely nodded and said nothing else, perched proud aside her painting to pinpoint it as her own. That evening she had adorned a metallic copper dress with thick straps crisscrossed around her neck and supported her plump, full bust. Paired with her smoky make-up and proper silver hoops, she was quite the foreign delicacy. The city, lately, had been griping for some new, original artists. Ever since a big-shot painter by the name of Johnathan Coruthers had his coke addiction exposed, top spot was once again available and Johnta, being ambitious and quick witted as she was, wouldn't let it slip through her fingertips. She made a promise to herself that she would crush any other artists that tried to leap ahead in this race. Miss Romaine? May I speak with your privately for a moment? Johnta politely excused herself then glided down the hallway, her strappy black stilettos clicking and clacking along the way. Her stride was both casual and proud, and with that short dress complimenting her long, well sculpted legs, she couldn't necessarily go wrong. A short-haired blond had approached the Caribbean woman suddenly Johnta didn't seemed phased, though she realized she had to meet the curator who was beckoning her forth. He could wait. So, you're new, huh? The blond chortled, placing her hands on her hips. Johnta truly had not acknowledged the woman. She kept her green eyes forward, examining the crowd from beyond a large black curtain. I think I should tell you now, newbie. I'm the top bitch in this world. Johnta raised one of her defined, plucked eyebrows quizzically, swiveling her gaze to watch the woman. If you were then you wouldn't be in this building annoying the fuck out of me. Her voice was soft and sweet like honey nonchalant and complaisant, but it was so dark and malicious that it had even startled the blond. Just before the blond could retort a man beckoned her forth again. He was one of the men contributing to the show, Matthias Redstone, an art collector of sorts. He gazed at the roguish looking woman with fatigued eyes, intrigued to hear about the inspiration for her art. I heard about your brother, the elderly man whispered apologetically, it's a tragic loss, to both your family and our world of art. He was an amazing writer ... and I'm sure, a better brother. Estelle's eyes reflected her disinterest in the topic. I understand. The man took a step back his eyes went wide, suddenly, as well as Estelle's. A large bang resounded through the museum's walls. Women yelped and screeched, others fled the scene. Matthias faltered for a moment. He staggered backward and dropped towards the ground without any warning. Johnta gazed downward. There in the dead center of his forehead was a bullet wedged deep within his skull. ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? ?? With eyes as bright, beautiful beige candles, a young, very suave looking man hauled into the extravagant, artsy museum adorning a dark, expensive Armani tuxedo and expensive looking shades. He was handsome, almost too handsome. As he passed a throng of ostentatious looking women, they all gawked at him with unrequited lust. The man's goal wasn't to break any hearts or get fucked by the prettiest exotic doll this evening. He wanted to taste the sweet, tart flavor or revenge. After nearly being busted with kilos amongst kilos of mountain-pure cocaine, he was left broke, flustered and above all, enraged. Several of his best men were disdained in the slammer - for God knew how along - and years of well planned trafficking. All for what? To have the snowy powder stripped away from as well as riches, glory ... and even his cherished street credit. However, Dante was no fool. He knew just how to reestablish his honorific empire. Though he may not have been fingered as much of a threat on the streets now, he could easily use that to his advantage. The streets were like putty in his hands malleable like damn near every peon that snooped around it. He'd hold the crown once more. He knew it. Luckily for him, a precious belonging to the man who made his kingdom crumble would help him in the rebuilding of the empire. The heavily tattooed giant strolled through one of the porcelain corridors, warily striding past massive, decorative pillars and artists who were skillfully displaying their works. Obviously his appearance made him stand out a bit amongst the male revelers. Not only was he tall - averaging at nearly six and a half inches - but he was broad. His chest and shoulders were both broad and sturdy his chocolate brown eyes simmered gloriously through his immensely extravagant sun-glasses. Amongst his many tattoos were piercings, as well - tiny plugs that graced his ear lobe and a small, metal band that curved around his lower lip. He flashed a group of ladies a very winsome grin then proceeded into the foyer which was draped ostentatiously in mahogany colored tapestries and tables of glorious food. Dante gently ran his tattooed fingers through his rugged, roguish hair. Each of his unwaveringly wavy curls were tamed this evening thanks to a straightener he 'borrowed' from one of his skater friends down the street from the Square. Dante merely wanted to kick back and recline. He knew that his presence here was based off of 'business' but could he not relax and enjoy the art? He did want to admit, the tasty looking morsels laid out neatly on the tables looked fairly tantalizing more then he had to say about the women around. He veered over and once more, brushed his soft, quaffed bangs from his milk chocolate view, catching glimpse of a suspicious looking young man off in a mirror to his far right. He immediately stuffed two bite-sized chocolate truffles into his mouth hungrily, redirecting his pertinent gaze towards the odd character. It didn't take long for Dante to note the revolver discreetly hidden within the man's hands. He sighed. I thought this night would go smoothly as planned. Nonetheless ... no sign of that little girl. Where is she? listulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistulistu