Welcome to Gaia! ::

She was trying to be tragic and it was that effort that made me see her to be an actress. She wore all sorts of clothing with tragic connotations. Her gloves had fashionable cuts and holes in them but that were very emotional in the way that cloth is emotional. Emotional cloth; it had a ring to it, and it was a theme constant throughout her attire. Her huge fake wings spread out like harbingers of hope, but like that element that humans need to survive, it was delicate. She wanted to hide her fragility; I could see it. Literally, I mean. I felt like she needed something. Something happy. Something to bring an element of verisimilitude into her. It was all fake, plastic. But it fit her purpose; after all, why did one enter into the cyberworld and pretend to be someone else if it was to hide oneself?

The butterfly wings were a pretty decoration, but did they signify a want to fly away and be as carefree as the creature itself? A mask covered her face and I wondered was there something perhaps ugly beneath it. She probably looked as pretty as could be, but covered the betraying eyes that were the windows to her tortured and fragile soul. Blues and blacks could be the subconcious form of bruises to her psyche; then again, maybe she just liked dark clothes and thought a mask with wings would be kickass. I could always be reading too much into it, seeing as she was silent and said nothing in return to my meandering thoughts. What was she? Just quiet, for now.

(My first try, sorry)

Her eyes glinted with the intelligence that lay beneath as she opened a bottle of red juice. Her black as the blue of night hair was gently tossled as she shook black gloved hands to make her drink fizz. She was smiling at something and staring at people in the room, shoving her aviatar hat back on her head when it slipped down over her eyebrows. He little white robot ears wiggled as she turned to look at me. Eloquence leaked out of thse eyes as she sipped her juice, walking gently in shoes made for stomping. I tried not to look at her short plaid skirt and black tights as she walked and instead focused on those eyes. Those eyes that spoke of dreams and nightmares and nights alone with a book in your broken hands as you cry into the words and days in the sun were the warmth lifted you in it's arms. She turned away her black hair blended with her black shirt and the eyes were gone. I felt colder without them and seeked solace in my racoon tail.

He was a mirror of me in a past life, or perhaps a future one. Unclothed, naked to the world, he was an example of discipline. He shielded himself from insults thrown at him because of his stark attire with only his strong personality. Somehow, he remained quiet, keeping his indignation to himself. If I were lucky enough to be reincarnated, I'd want to have such a strong character, providing that there was one greater power merciful enough to grant another chance to a pitiful life. But if there was not... he stood there still, clothed only in what was on him when he was born, an example to the world of true purity and integrity.

Her expression was priceless. Showing a happiness not seen in ages. Her eyes showed intellegence, experience, and were filled with kindness, compassion, and despair. Her clothes screamed unique. Just like everything else about her.

She stood there with that dark arm, screaming that she had power. She was staring at me. She didn't look shy at all, but still I felt she was hiding something beind her eyes. She was outgoing, her own self. Unlike a lot of others.

He had changed his outfit. I'd never seen him out of the one had had on before. It was odd, quirky, and interesting. If I was a stranger to him, I'd have judged him a little bit differently. But my judgement would never be too far off; everything he wore spoke of his energetic and involved personality. There was some sort of aura around him that preserved his innocence and kept him the same as before. His new look was just that; a new look. Nothing else, for Daykurfin would always be the same, reliable person.