New Old Gods
Oct. 21st, 2004 09:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
featherynscaleMoving off of this morning's post from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
druidevo...
She is a thin, wiry black woman with close-cropped, bleached-silver hair. She wears no makeup but wears rows of piercings in her ears, little silver studs all the way up. She is dressed in a tight-fitting white cotton halter top and loose dark blue jeans. Her left hand is on her hip, adorned with silver bangles. Her right hand holds a fairly imposing handgun, pointed up at the sky. Two girls of five or six, one black with hair in cornrows, one hispanic, stand behind her, peeking out around her legs, curiously. A pit bull terrier sits at her feet, contentedly. The expression on her face is one of certainty and confidence.
A middle-aged, well-weathered man with long greasy greying hair stands in a garage, in front of a car on a lift. He is dressed in an oil-stained brown coverall, which is embroidered with a gold lightning-bolt emblem on the breast pocket. His hands hang at his sides. He holds a welding torch in one hand and a mask in the other. His left leg is encased from the knee down in a steel brace, which is pinned to the leg. He is sweaty and covered in grime. A workbench is to his right, covered in automotive tools, scattered about. At his left, a beautiful woman beckons from an open door.
druidevo...She is a thin, wiry black woman with close-cropped, bleached-silver hair. She wears no makeup but wears rows of piercings in her ears, little silver studs all the way up. She is dressed in a tight-fitting white cotton halter top and loose dark blue jeans. Her left hand is on her hip, adorned with silver bangles. Her right hand holds a fairly imposing handgun, pointed up at the sky. Two girls of five or six, one black with hair in cornrows, one hispanic, stand behind her, peeking out around her legs, curiously. A pit bull terrier sits at her feet, contentedly. The expression on her face is one of certainty and confidence.
A middle-aged, well-weathered man with long greasy greying hair stands in a garage, in front of a car on a lift. He is dressed in an oil-stained brown coverall, which is embroidered with a gold lightning-bolt emblem on the breast pocket. His hands hang at his sides. He holds a welding torch in one hand and a mask in the other. His left leg is encased from the knee down in a steel brace, which is pinned to the leg. He is sweaty and covered in grime. A workbench is to his right, covered in automotive tools, scattered about. At his left, a beautiful woman beckons from an open door.
