Post by anatasie chantal rousseau on Mar 29, 2010 17:54:34 GMT
PAINTED SCENES, I'M UP ALL NIGHT, SLAYING MONSTERS, FLYING KITES
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the thin canvas bag felt like a heavy weight against her frame despite its near emptiness. ana didn't want to open it ever again...didn't want to lay eyes upon that sleek black folder inside that housed her most recent shots from the agency.
she was too thin, and well aware of this fact. used as nothing but a hanger for rolls upon rolls of flowing fabric and sometimes completely outrageous material...of course, they didn't want her to gain any weight for fear that she'd ruin her perfectly lank figure, but there were days when ana so badly wanted to break out of the little routine they'd constructed for her...she wanted to be free from their heavy restraints...completely and wholly able to be no one but herself. that, however, would mean losing her little gig at the amateur modeling agency, and she couldn't afford that sort of loss in the long run. she'd always be their puppet...their little china doll to dress up and style in any fashion they saw fit.
it wasn't that anatasie hated modeling...no, there was something deep within it that was quite enjoyable, really...the feeling of being able to make a statement, or affect the emotions of people with a single glance. in fact, most of the clothing they had her don wasn't so bad, really...there was usually something rather artistic and vintage to it. but the restraints of everything overshadowed these positives, usually, and she found herself looking upon the whole situation as negative. she became self-conscious and even a little irritable towards the "industry," although she'd always be a touch too timid to bring up her feelings on the subject to anybody other than her older brother.
ana was currently walking along the edge of a small beach just outside of london, her lithe yet seemingly shapeless form draped in a long, sweeping white dress while a thin sweater hung loosely across her shoulders. she'd just left the agency after having gone over her most recent shoot for some "exotic perfume," and she wasn't exactly in the mood to return home just yet. her father would just want to see the pictures and exclaim how beautiful they all looked and how proud her mother would be. she hated them. and she certainly didn't want to hear that sort of thing at the moment...
slowly, ana sat herself down on the edge of the sand, letting out a frustrated sigh in the process...despite the fact that winter was nearing its close, the weather hadn't quite warmed yet, and the pale sand was void of any population. vaguely, she wondered what life would've been like if she'd stayed with her mother back in france instead of moving to london...mieux que cela, she thought, better than this...
shrugging the bag from her shoulder, ana let it hit the sand with a gentle thud and moodily started brushing the white grains over its surface with slender fingertips...
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WORD COUNT::[/b][/color] 479
CREDIT::[/b][/color] template courtesy of moi, lyrics by annie little, title lyrics from mgmt's "electric feel"
NOTES::[/b][/color] i hope this is an all right start, moo. xD i had no idea where to begin it, so i just put at the beach
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