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Date Posted: 22:47:06 06/12/01 Tue
Author: Crucifix
Subject: -=- Prance -=-

-=- The golden femme prances accross the firm earth, her flaxen mane cascading down her gently arched neck. Her head is held up high in quiet defiance. Her cold orbs glint unrelentlessly, ever searching. She had been approached by none... and would approach none. When her eyes cross you, they leave an imprint on your soul.. burning in it a cross, asign of where she has been. Hence the name, which pounds in your ears, softly, soflty, then louder, louder, louder, until it seems you can stand it no more, it recedes again, gently whispering...-=-
........Crucifix........

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