I'm no Superman

Lolita Monroe · 05-16-2010, 03:12 PM

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Don't know if there needs to be a mature warning on this yet, but I'll add one in once we figure out what's happening! 300+ words.

Lolita Monroe still did not know what to do with herself. She had been drifting between Dahlia de Mai and the house in the city, but she still housed the empty feeling inside her. Nothing seemed able to make her smile anymore. The creamy Dahlian could not think of any purpose she served, her mere existence. It seemed so pointless, everything about her. The war had taken its toll on the lovely woman, and she was finding it difficult to pull herself out of the mood that she had fallen into. Even talking to Anselm about it, which had helped briefly, had lost its affect on her, and Lolita was back where she had begun. She felt alone, and though she would not admit it, she was afraid of the loneliness that continued to plague her. Would she ever be able to lose that tugging feeling?

The creamy-colored woman was lounging on the bed in one of the bedrooms of the house in the city. The scent marks needed renewing, but she thought they were probably still fairly effective. The scent of her smoke clung to everything in the house and it seemed almost like a cloud hung around it, but she knew that was just in her mind. The smell was simply incredibly heavy around the house, noticable to anyone that would pass by. Her faded leather bag sat in the corner of the roolm, but she made no move to get it. Truthfully, Lolita looked rather dead where she was lying. Of course, she was always dead, but her body was draped dramatically over the red-blanketed bed, flamboyant red hair fanned around her delicate, petite face. It was early in the day, the sun barely risen, and she would go back to Dahlia de Mai soon, she was guessing.

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