Post by MARIE ANNA D'ANCANTO on Apr 15, 2011 16:50:18 GMT -8
If there was one thing Rogue needed to do right now, it was get out of the mansion. She couldn't handle being in that place on more second. Don't get it wrong, Rogue loved it, but she longed for the place she'd grown up in. Missisippi. Meridian, to be exact. The coldness of the city was a stark contrast to the warmth back home.
Growing up, Rogue and her dad had always watched Gone With the Wind together, and she'd always pretended to be Scarlett, wearing her mother's dresses and jewelry, prancing around and repeating lines to them. They hadn't done it since Grandpa died. The thought of him made her turn her eyes down, but she shook it off. Her mourning was done, gone with the rose she'd placed on his coffin.
Walking through the streets of New York after taking one of the cars to the city, she found herself in Times Square. Now, Rogue had been here a handful of times and the place never failed to excite her; only years ago she'd only dreamt of seeing the famous bright and twinkling lights that were more stars of Manhattan then the actual stars were. As she walked, face turned up and a smile gracing her face, she got stairs, probably for her clothing. Rogue was wearing a pair of black, short gloves that had tiny silver studs on the knuckles, and a tight black t-shirt that clung to her, the black pants and jacket she wore, along with military-style knee high boots throwing off the almost neon looking white "Phantom" mask emblazoned across her chest, her brown hair tumbling down her shoulders, the shock of her white bangs framing her face as she continued to smile, gazing up at Manhattan's own little galaxy.
Growing up, Rogue and her dad had always watched Gone With the Wind together, and she'd always pretended to be Scarlett, wearing her mother's dresses and jewelry, prancing around and repeating lines to them. They hadn't done it since Grandpa died. The thought of him made her turn her eyes down, but she shook it off. Her mourning was done, gone with the rose she'd placed on his coffin.
Walking through the streets of New York after taking one of the cars to the city, she found herself in Times Square. Now, Rogue had been here a handful of times and the place never failed to excite her; only years ago she'd only dreamt of seeing the famous bright and twinkling lights that were more stars of Manhattan then the actual stars were. As she walked, face turned up and a smile gracing her face, she got stairs, probably for her clothing. Rogue was wearing a pair of black, short gloves that had tiny silver studs on the knuckles, and a tight black t-shirt that clung to her, the black pants and jacket she wore, along with military-style knee high boots throwing off the almost neon looking white "Phantom" mask emblazoned across her chest, her brown hair tumbling down her shoulders, the shock of her white bangs framing her face as she continued to smile, gazing up at Manhattan's own little galaxy.
