My borrowed face and my third-hand grace only reflect your glory

Chameleon

Early on in life, she had to face the facts: she would never fit. She wasn’t built to blend in, wasn’t made like her brothers and sisters to become a part of the landscape and escape detection. In the unforgiving urban jungle, even under her designer labels and makeup it was clear she didn’t belong. The clothes fit and the composure was accepted, but through the Revlon and DKNY the world could still see flashes of fresh leaves and moonlight in her hair and on her skin.

She did her best, carefully sculpting an image and a look. She made a life, bought a house and filled it with beautiful things. Her closet was her pride and joy, her career was her everything. Still, of all her brothers and sisters she was the one that was always hungry. Sex, prey, recognition, she was always stalking something or someone. She danced, and under the graceful movements and come-hither smiles they could see the flash of teeth that tore greedily into red meat and the hands that could snap a coyote’s neck without so much as hesitating.

When she posed, she was more than a fantasy, a warm and eager body. Under the tanned skin were the muscles of a hunter, in her eyes there was blood red behind the warm brown. Even when she edited a piece for print, she showed her targets no mercy. Her demand for perfection was as ruthless as a wolf on the hunt.

Among her darker siblings, she glowed like the sun. In the city, she was the one that got noticed, the wild animal kissed with the scent of Chanel No. 5...she just couldn’t blend in.

Even in the bosom of her family, she would never quite fit.

Muse: Anne Forsythe
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 293