Luna's Haven~closed save for invitees.

Laughter, as he swings me close...hips moving flawlessly to the music...lips curled into a wicked smile...

Tambourine

He chuckles back as the music changes and her hips move with his, resting his hands on her hips as he moves with her, grinning back at her, baring his teeth. He brushes against her, enjoying the slight friction.
 
He chuckles back as the music changes and her hips move with his, resting his hands on her hips as he moves with her, grinning back at her, baring his teeth. He brushes against her, enjoying the slight friction.

Reappears with a sigh, a grumble of curses, a pouty bottom lip.

FUCK! I give up. Let me focus on getting the Dreamer's post written...
 
Dare I ask?

I am busier than I should be and I keep coming and going...and it's annoying me...

*pouts*

So now, I am going to buckle down and get this damned post written. No music. No dancing. No talking til I get it done, correctly.
 
I am busier than I should be and I keep coming and going...and it's annoying me...

*pouts*

So now, I am going to buckle down and get this damned post written. No music. No dancing. No talking til I get it done, correctly.

*hugs, then points you towards your posts*
 
More music...

Why?

Brain won't focus...am hungry. probably need something to eat...what do I owe? Celestine. Lorena. Maybe the vixen. Gotta work out the Angel...
 
Silence. My brain contemplating which version I prefer...knowing that number two is not going to work, no matter how much I love the picture. Thinks.
 
Why isn't two going to work?

In that case; three is my choice.

Doesn't suit what I want.

I can not write a paler persuasion(ed) person comfortably. Feels false. Skin tone is a big deal, for me. So is ethnicity. So I like images that show something with an ethnic look~Asian, Black, Hispanic, Native American.

(reason being that Caucasion seems to be the go to for characters and I like reading about people who are not always white. I like writing characters who are not white. I like writing about people who seem a bit like me...not just in attitude...looks as well)

I am torn between one and three...

leaning toward three...
 
Angel~The Host~Thoughts.

There is a war. There is always a war. The host fights. That is their reason for existing. Maybe not at first, not when the ONE first pulled them from the stuff of dream. In the beginning? Their job had been to help order the universes made, to guide the creation, to implement what was wanted by the ALL.

But that had changed, over uncounted eons. The ONE had withdrawn, the worlds and universes had given birth to life, and a quarter of the Host had fallen and spread out, to win their way through the hearts of mortals. The best of the Host had taken his followers and fell, thrown from the ramparts of Heaven.

The Host that remained, were mindless, for the most part. They fought. They won. And if a life was given, a grace removed? It had to be the will of the ALL. It couldn't actually be that Fallen were winning. Please, the One, it couldn't actually be that the Fallen were right.

There are divisions in the Host. Not necessarily by lightness nor coloration, but type. A Death Angel is as different from the Seraphim as a composer is from the orchestra. Death Angels do not have the morality that eats at the majority of the Host. They don't care for right or wrong, only for what gets the job done.

They are the assassins of the Host. They kill without qualm. It is how they are formed. It is what their job demands. Because they deal with the darker aspects of mortal life, their coloration is not the pure marble of the others. Some of the Fallen's own darkness is evident in their eyes, in their skin, upon their wings. Their wings are always black.

There is a war on. There is always a war on. And the Host are winning, but for how long?

Dahmia~leader of the Earth contingent. Shaped and formed to resemble the Aborigine peoples of the world~dark skinned, dark eyed, dark haired. The Death Angel could look like any one of thousands of tribes~ could fit any where. But the rules had changed. Now she/he/it could no longer take the battle to the Fallen. A mortal host must be taken. She/he/it must pour Angelic consciousness into a host body.

Dahmia prefers the peoples that most resemble what she/he/it IS. So The host mortal is black, brown, tan. The hair is always dark~usually straight, sometimes curly. The host mortal is pious, willing. The host mortal is a soldier for the ONE. The host mortal is female.

Countless females, over the ages. Dahmia begins to be female as well. And with the beginning of that knowledge, Dahmia realizes two things. Femaleness does not equal weak. And for the most part, Fallen are almost always, Male. Unity in halves.

Dahmia is a Death Angel, one who works and walks and protects the mortals on the plane of Earth. And there is a war on. There is always a war on...and she is far from home.
 
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