<div class="floatleft">(http://i87.photobucket.com/albums/k132/BriBla/Sister%20Maria%20Lucia_zps30ottdjs.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:  Maria Lucia  (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=233968.msg11550235#msg11550235)<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Amelia Linbergh Estate - Singapore<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Aori and Ami<br/><strong>Content</strong>: The perks of being a wallflower in nun's clothing.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><br/><em><strong>Sisyphus put his hands upon the stone and the universe trembled. The rough texture of it, bit into the flesh of his palms and blood granted the sacrifice that would be given over and over again in brillant pain.</strong></em><br/><br/>Her step's coincided with her thought as if the heavy weight upon her shoulders was directly caused by nearness of the glittering ones. Did she appear as uncomfortable as she was? It was absolutely possible,  she realized as her cimmerian pools cast their gaze over the others who were blocking her path to seclusion. The quickest path lay just upon the borders of where her sinuous legs could carry her without drawing attention. Sigh finally exhaled as she sought the comforted shelter of a statue to be her conjoined twin at her right shoulder, so that those same orbs could slide over the plethora of shimmering Society gathering. Who she searched for, burnt into the soft tissue of her mind, fingers finding their solace in the flick of that nail over crucifix still. <br/><br/>It would be a lie to say her gaze did not  drift over Aori in all her irreverent glory. And a bigger lie to say that it wasn't the cause for the rise of one side of the charlatan Nun's mouth. Something about the woman who exasperated and abraded more then one or two of the other guests, gave a touch of mirth to the dark eyes.  Maria Lucia did not need to hear what was being said to clearly understand the reverberation's of the well endowed Beauty's actions. The ripples of those actions from both her voice, and body arched outwards in circles ever increasing in size until all attentions would be returned to the one at the Center. An amusing thing to watch how the 'lights of Society' held themselves above the stench of reality, the slightest waft of scandal and they were in ways like school aged children spreading their own form of bitterness and bite in the way of gossiped words, and cold stares. <br/><br/>Even more interesting, and cause for that brow to rise slightly as she watched another speaking towards the Center. No, that one was not like the meretricious Center at all. Nail upon the wooden crucifix flicked in time with her breath now as she observed. From the way that the woman held her tapered flute of rice wine, to the very way that the crisp white cheongsam flowed  in competed in contrast to the graceful rolling and pinning of that obsidian kissed hair? Something was not quite right. It could be merely that it was a case of strange beds making stranger bedfellows but still it warranted noting. Her own voyeuristic tendencies enabled as head tilted her habit hiding shielding her from eyes that might wish to pry upon her. <br/><br/>Vantage point secured in the sweet succor of statues shadow like a good wallflower, she bore witness to where others milled about speaking while libations loosened tongues and fueled feverish discussion. The air of excitement was a current that seemed to have stirred even the elite to a festive mood. So when she rubbed her hip against the pedestal of the statue ever so careful to make sure it didn't knock over, she almost found it in her heart to forgive the Father. Almost. But as the heavy cloth of her robes shifted over that dainty form she found herself rising to the balls of feet to look not in this room but the one over. The tuft of white hair, the venerable carriage of a man who was used to being held in most people's esteem, his shoulders curved inwards now making him see all the more weakened by age. Even from here, she could see the burden of his boreal eyes clouded now by the seasons.<br/> <br/>And as she watched him move the motions slow and methodical as if the joints and muscles refused to work as well as once they did. Maria Lucia felt the most assuaging expression move across her strange features. <em><strong>"Peek a boo, cabra vieja. I see you."</strong></em> the sing song words spoken to the statue beside her as she gave it a look. <em><strong>"Stop being so fresh, cannot you tell I am a woman of the cloth.."</strong></em> the underlying humor in her whisper as she smoothed her robe, just as an excuse to try once more to appease the itching born of humidity and wool. Biding her time, as she bonded with the alabaster stone beside her. <br/></span></span><br/><br/><br/><br/>