Post by Atlas on Sept 7, 2012 16:21:53 GMT -5
The air was still here, yet a hidden energy buzzed like the song of a thousand sacades insects. Settling dust from years ago still drifted in the air when the tower reappeared. It made her throat dry, the urge to cough being choked down with a gulp, winching gray eyes shut. This place made her side hurt, the dull throbbing pain in her left side causing a tension of her muscle system. Clenching her form up and winding up, glaring toward the tower entrance. Why was she here of all places? Following the trail her father left behind, though it wasn't as fresh as she had hoped to find. He had been walking the earth since he was banished from hell, and some trails crossed and laced together. As if to throw her off, or anyone off, for that matter.. Regardless, it had brought her into this infernal city. It seemed fitting… and the kicker? This was near the red light district. Great. Demons and prostitutes within a mile of each other? What's better than that?!
Slow breaths left a feeling of constriction in her chest, like a hand was closing around her throat and trying to force her away from this place. Yet something within drew her closer. Her inner demon maybe? Stepping through the street toward the tower, the dust collected on the leather of her boots, giving it a off black sort of coloring. Though she wasn't too worried about getting dirty or scuffing her boots. The leathery bindings of her pants would get that same coloring soon, she was certain of it. Though the suede of her inner thighs, a dark scarlet color, hard to tell apart from the black leather for the moment, was another story. The fabric placed on her inner thighs instead of leather for the reason of… leather squeaked when rubbed together. Though it didn't happen often, it happened enough for her to mod the pant legs to her suiting.
A roll of her neck surrendered a few cracking noises of bone releasing pressure that had built up between the discs of her spine and caused discomfort. The release of pressure brought out a sigh, partly disdained, partly relieved. Stepping into the tower, she glanced around before looking forward. This room was cold, but seemed fairly empty.. the torches that never seemed to go out remained lit, giving the old air a sweet, burning scent. Reaching up and pinching the bridge of her nose, the hellion blue blood felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her, enough to make her stand still and wait for it to pass. Once the feeling settled, she began forward once more. Stepping past the resting place that cerberus used to occupy before the tower was over taken, hands came up to push through the doors and enter the main building.
The air pressure that pushed down through the door would have toppled most people, but Atlas managed to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground, her coat fluttering and exposing her form. Arm up to block her eyes from the shifting air pressure, the rest of her catsuit shining with the faint light that reflected off the leather latex looking surface. Two belts lay across her waist, with two small saddle bags on each side, the contents known to herself only. Gazing over her arm when the pressure normalized and allowed her to continue forward. Stepping toward the center of the area and looking up. "Hm.." Was her father hiding in here? Unlikely.. did he leave a little trap for her.. more than likely. Reaching back to pull her long white locks back and into a tie, Fenson allowed her eyes to wander, looking for a path to follow through this place to track down her fathers trail.
Slow breaths left a feeling of constriction in her chest, like a hand was closing around her throat and trying to force her away from this place. Yet something within drew her closer. Her inner demon maybe? Stepping through the street toward the tower, the dust collected on the leather of her boots, giving it a off black sort of coloring. Though she wasn't too worried about getting dirty or scuffing her boots. The leathery bindings of her pants would get that same coloring soon, she was certain of it. Though the suede of her inner thighs, a dark scarlet color, hard to tell apart from the black leather for the moment, was another story. The fabric placed on her inner thighs instead of leather for the reason of… leather squeaked when rubbed together. Though it didn't happen often, it happened enough for her to mod the pant legs to her suiting.
A roll of her neck surrendered a few cracking noises of bone releasing pressure that had built up between the discs of her spine and caused discomfort. The release of pressure brought out a sigh, partly disdained, partly relieved. Stepping into the tower, she glanced around before looking forward. This room was cold, but seemed fairly empty.. the torches that never seemed to go out remained lit, giving the old air a sweet, burning scent. Reaching up and pinching the bridge of her nose, the hellion blue blood felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her, enough to make her stand still and wait for it to pass. Once the feeling settled, she began forward once more. Stepping past the resting place that cerberus used to occupy before the tower was over taken, hands came up to push through the doors and enter the main building.
The air pressure that pushed down through the door would have toppled most people, but Atlas managed to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground, her coat fluttering and exposing her form. Arm up to block her eyes from the shifting air pressure, the rest of her catsuit shining with the faint light that reflected off the leather latex looking surface. Two belts lay across her waist, with two small saddle bags on each side, the contents known to herself only. Gazing over her arm when the pressure normalized and allowed her to continue forward. Stepping toward the center of the area and looking up. "Hm.." Was her father hiding in here? Unlikely.. did he leave a little trap for her.. more than likely. Reaching back to pull her long white locks back and into a tie, Fenson allowed her eyes to wander, looking for a path to follow through this place to track down her fathers trail.
