The first glance is always the one best remembered. But some people choose to be forgotten.  Some people try to go unnoticed.  Hold perfectly still.  Don't speak.  Wait. Predator or prey?  That is the lingering mystique around the corner dwellers.  Shadowed shrouds can only hide so much.  Draped fabrics conceal features.  They cannot completely consume the form.

Her form is drenched, but not in decadent finery, silks, jewelry -- only layers of coarse muslin whose loosely woven fibers are the antithesis of silk..  She looks like a beggar. She looks like a vagrant.  She looks forgettable.  Except she isn't because she stands about six and a half feet tall, statuesque when unveiled, broad shouldered and firm bodied with alabaster skin that contrasts with her onyx hair. She looks nothing like an average woman.

Ravens have feathers that appear similar to her hair.  Their smooth sleek oily sheen that resembles so much black water run down an aviary form is the only fitting description for it.  It is hair on the surface: ebon hair, straight as a broom, but beneath that, at her scalp's edge where skin greets each tiny follicle, there are downy feathers plaited against her crown, noticeable at close range or with a lover's caress.  They frame her face at the edges, nesting along her hairline.  From her back, grow two delicate wings that are also graced with similar plumage.

Upon closer inspection, the aviary resemblance ends, and something very different begins.  She does not have the keen, black sharp hawk-eyes one might expect.  Instead, sanguine pools of deepest alizarin stare back out.  They are never-sated-eyes that look with passive longing on the world as if memories once fresh, were renewed only by their consumption of fleeting images around her.  She is hunger.  She is want.  She is lust.  She is consumption.  The hedonistic savant who can hold a glass of the finest wine in one hand and a firm breast in the other and still not be content.  She is longing.  She is desire.  She is squandered decadence.  And even as she devours the sumptuous feast, she is already dreaming of the next: One thick throat-choking cock delicately suckled between rose-lips will never keep her eyes from their shameless meanderings towards the next temptingly full groin.  And why should it?  She is, after all, the prodigal: the patient prodigal whose careful calculations are measured not in seconds, but the clickity-click of reddest nails against a metal flask. Tick, tick, click, click, pause, click, click, tick, tick.  And the same predictable measurement moves her feet and sways her hips.

She is possessed of a decadently ample buttox and round hips that curve into a wasp-waist whose dimensions are aided by a corset, the waist flaring out from the corset into stunningly large breasts.  They're real. Real enough to tug downward with gravity and real enough to be fuller at the bottom than the top when not perched upon the ivory boning of the corset, which gives them lift when she's fully dressed.  More than a handful, more than a mouthful, and she knows this because she's been known to lift them to her own lips, tantalizingly suckling on them for another's amusement.  Afterall, who can honestly resist that deeper shaded circle and delicate nub that so eloquently punctuate the expression of flesh that is a woman's breast.

But not every woman is only just that, an expression of soft indulgence manifest in silken folds and subtle curves.  This woman has a bit more settled between shapely thighs.  And oh the enjoyment it has brought to her on nights when she's not come home with something to amuse her.  There, where  a pearl and folds should settle, is instead, a magnificently well-hidden bulge - a vascular pinnacle of virility set just above equally endowed bulbs of cum-pumping prowess, able to fill whatever void her thick shaft penetrates. Do be careful though. She may be predator, she may be prey.

________________________________________

Reds are simple. Nothing illegal or age-related.  While I'm not averse to most rp, I truly do not find any fascination in scat.

Greens are everything else.  If you want to rp, approach her as a character, not me as a player. I give no guarantees as to her interest level. She can be somewhat moody and often quite abrasive.