The White.
by: Me.

Her appearance is not one easy to discern; strung between surreal and dangerous, and without name. On a vast blank canvas blue hues and icy tones compose into a medium where nature can't decide between warning or camouflage. In some ways she is approachable -- fragile and white, soft and relaxed as the uncombed tufts of a tiger's fur. But the hard edge she draws when coming at you is white. Serpent white; sleek and bold; foreboding and unforgiving; looming in your background like an avalanche; spattered with a red; a red like murder. A cliche, perhaps, but hers before such time was true. Spindly arms carved from alabaster boast as hard marble when flexed. Her strength and size is an asset she has banked off seriously in her many years. But this is not to degrade her more womanly features. Her tall frame affords her the luxury of having a full figure while still being athletic, the dramatic seize of waist after hips are cello from the front and sand dune from the side. Hungry for amusement or challenge, that she can force you into her games is the achievement mark of her physical prowess. A victim's only fortune is she rife with laziness and seemingly allergic to effort at times. There's a reason why she looks magic-touched; this sort of creature was never meant to be mingled with anything but her own, and the effects of doing so are always an experiment.