an almighty thud

N/A · 12-31-2016, 11:19 PM

She makes her way to the edge of the dance floor, head quirked softly to the side. It's an easy movement, high in the head, light in the step. She doesn't mind. Fortune is the grace of a huntress, the grace of the huntress. It's easier this way. It's easier to never turn it off. She never turns off. Always going. Always running tight.

Seemingly in overdrive, Fortune moves to the heart of it. The heart of the very dancefloor, head high, eyes bright. Always bright. Always brilliant. Something about her burns. Everything burns. Fortune does not want to burn everything, but maybe... a few things. They would remain smoldering for now, under wraps. She's always under wraps.

But where was Faite?

fortune
shock & awe

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