nom de plume �� -- Beach

Honey melanged tresses of a wavy fashion attached to a golden sconce covered in the tosseled, uncaring styled hair was all that could be seen of the vivacious, piquant girl as one proceeded down the rather steep incline that led to the murky, sun kissed turquoise brine. She had propped herself up against a ledge like nook that the steely blue deep had eroded away into a makeshift natural lounge of sorts; paragon for accompying her skinny form. Her mellow voice, inflected with humbled, drunken contentment and equanimitous tranquility with her aesthetically replete and peaceful ambiance, sounded offhandedly and quietly; mellifluously. "We'll slip into the velvet drug... and be jaded..." She half conciously sang, or, murmured, rather, absently as she sundered the celestially white petals off of a most unfortunate, serendipity famished flower. Her lugubrious, teal oculus, sun struck, that were slightly concealed in order to shield themselves from the setting sphere's ardent rays, surveyed the illy blessed petals' curiously listless descent to the warm, ivory brown sand. The seemingly enamored female capriciously sliced the stem in half with her nail, or lack thereof, being it was somewhat stubby. She wasn't genuinely captivated onm her activity with bated breath, as it simply was not that sheerly thrillingly exillerating, except maybe to someone poetically, compulsively, and unhealthily obsessed with nature. However, she was focused on dolorous topics she was deeming in a prime examplary model of cerebral overload. She quiescently peered at the green, gooey chlorophyll as it oozed out like slime in a sewer from her botany victim, scrinkling up her small nose in feigned repulsion as the plant "bled." She lapsed into woebegone, wistfully musing nostalgia, absently trailing her finely boned finger along the plant's supple stem with teh faintest of touches as she whimsically daydreamed while canvassing the sunset with its lavishly rich, cliched sunset colors. She was not overwhelmed by the pulchritude of the picturesque conclusion to the day before her because it was so routine that it was almost banal to her.

Being a gregarious philanthropist was overrated and grew insufferably tiresome after all the benevolent facades she tried on for size every day. Her life was a constant masquerade party. She thoroughly savored these moments to herself, sitting beneath a merciful, phospherescent sun, and feeling all of her troubles either fall away and uplift her into felicity, or bombard her in a vanguard of oppressive, unrelenting demons. It depended on her mood, raelly. She uncrossed her dainty, bronze toned legs and stretched her sinew, reclining additionally furtherly into her nook and extending her notch below wiry arms backward over the incline as well. A yawn synchronized harmoniously with the action; in perfect concurrence with the heavy, titillating tingle that consumed her in satiation after the muscles had been taut. Sleep was being hypnotically induced with the somniferous, consolingly warm rays of the radiant sun above her, and she weakly refused the seductive poison of slumbering alfresco, however reluctant the decision was and however tempting the prize for just letting herself rest lithely in ignorance of everything that was in vertigo on the outside world. She moved her hand in gloomy lassitude along the sand and scooped a bit up, making a triangular, prim pile on her thigh and then brushing it off in wispy motions with ennui. Lacking a cohort may have been simpatico and charming, but it did eventually cloy, like most other splendidly auspicious things. Silence was an eerie thing; trademark of both the dead and of the living, and she was basking in it and the formidably awe inspiring scenery, although the latter was rather trivial to her. The negative nomenclature of the nightmare that flanked her constantly had made her rather indifferent and detached that day, and now, she had a bitter taste on the tip of the tongue that she couldn't uncumber herself from. The taste had been acquired, one that ebbed, but one that she could never fully swallow.

[OoC: No, she's not in a bathing suit. She has on a maroon sweatshirt with a pair of white terry shorts, if you were wondering since she could put sand on her thigh. And excuse me for the fancy layout of her post but you must understand I was Internet deprived for three days and I got pathetically bored so I decided to spruce it up by designing an add-on to the post because I ran out of things to do after about the seventh post I wrote.]