Thread: Perfect Stranger (SevenxDream)

Now, Nicholas wasn't necessarily the only one who felt uncomfortable in the pricey environment. Unlike her best friend, Estelle stood out like a sore thumb, and quite frankly, she could care less. She was a mismatched Christmas sock amongst a pile of regular white stockings. Nicholas' little get-together summoned friends and acquaintances with snowy white skin textures, blue eyes and traditional blond hair. Estelle, however, was a literal polar opposite. Her eyes were carved from intense green emeralds and her skin resembled a business man's coffee that had a mild amount of cream added. When the exotic looking figure had entered the restaurant merely an hour prior, she felt Bianca's icy cold gaze attempt to dominate her own. It was a clash of auras Estelle remembered feeling the intangible energies do battle ferociously within a room of chattering people. Since then the woman had calmed herself. This was an important day for Nicholas' finacee, Bianca, and no matter the mutual distaste Estelle harbored towards the pencil-thin blond, Nicholas was in bright spirits, and she wished to keep the broad man's smile brimming brightly at its fullest, if at least for now. Estelle watched with stoic, nonchalant eyes as the men and women at the table chattered amongst themselves. There had been several accounts in which a woman sitting at the far end of the table had batted her large, clearly cosmetic, eyelashes at Estelle in bewilderment as if to say, You don't belong here. Estelle wasn't easily perturbed by the somewhat childish antics of the woman and didn't necessarily pay her any mind. Despite being a bit of an oddity she sat straight and tall--for Nicholas' sake at least. Hell, she had even went so far as to purchase an overly extravagant black, strapless dress for her friend. Nicholas of all people knew that Estelle despised dresses, save for the one she had tailored from a sultry watermelon green latex-like material. It was customized for evenings out on the town - specifically clubs - or for her Blank Canvas parties she attended for artists. Everyone was required to stand out and look exotic or unique for those types of galas. Excuse me, miss. May I ask how you got that... scar, is it? The woman sitting at the end of the table, from Estelle could tell, was trying a little too hard to be polite. Though, Estelle couldn't help but flash a smug, toothy grin at the mention of her self proclaimed 'battle scar. Is it a skin condition? I suffer from terminal melanoma. Though Estelle's voice was soft, balmy and virtually dripping with honey, the woman received absolutely no comfort from the nearly agonizing blow. O-oh. I'm so sorry, I, uh... I didn't know. She placed a hand over her sternum, her mouth left agape from the sudden shock. Well, perhaps Estelle had twisted the truth a little. She was once suffering from terminal melanoma. After intense sessions of chemotherapy which explained her pixie cut they managed to reduce the effects of the cancerous cells. Her doctor explained that she would indefinitely have skin cancer for the remainder of her life, but it would not destroy her skin anymore then it did, creating the marred blotch on her bicep. She gingerly sipped at her wine, clearly pleased with the chaos she had created at one end of the table. Several others to go, then she'd arrive at the final boss--the queen bitch herself, Bianca the Ice Queen . As her dear companion proposed a toast to his soon to be lawfully - and sinfully - wedded wife, Estelle stood erect as she was obliged to, close to her dear friend - who was basically a brother to her - offering all possible support available for him. When the irritating crow began to speak, Estelle inadvertently redirected her attention. What a horrible sound it was that came from her mouth. What Nicholas seen in her, Estelle truly had absolutely no clue, but he was happy, and that's all she could truly ask for. How he was happy? It was something she would never know. As a toast was proposed, the unentertained woman raised the class with well manicured claws, lobbing her close friend a warm, inviting smile, even when his fiancee proceeded to make a complete fool of herself a puff rings of smoke into the thin, sweet smelling air. Though the two were both beautiful woman, Estelle would win by a mile with personality. Bianca's mendacious mannerisms made her a little standoffish and blatantly drab. Her name was spoke. Estelle's green eyes turned to craggy, unpolished stone. She watched Bianca with wary eyes, awaiting something which Estelle hoped to label as a compliment, to spill forth from her rouge lips. But once again, Bianca recreated Estelle's stereotype. You flatter me, dear, you really do, Estelle half-scoffed, taking another wanton sip of her wine. When Bianca breathed Nick's name, she clutched her glass so tight she felt the glass cry out in protest under the pressure. During the time Bianca had advanced, Estelle cringed. Bianca, don't do it. But oh, she did. The red wine spilled like a cataract of blood onto the woman's fiancee. While Bianca had been classy enough to storm off, Estelle was left at the table, plucking off silvery rings from her fingers and bangles from her wrists. The metal and silver hit the table top with a resounding thud in the silence Estelle even went so far as to leave her hoops as well. Excuse me. I'll be right back. She rubbed her wrists as she turned, taking quick, elegant strides along side Bianca. She slung an arm around the woman's scrawny shoulders, her hand almost maliciously clutching the brunt of her shoulder. You and I need to speak, 'luv. Now .listulistulistulistu