[[ hello, I stumbled across your rp a while ago and have been thinking of apping ever since. So, mind if I cut in? ]]
The dress she's stuck in - silver, floaty, and completely wrong for her preferences - makes Kate wriggle and stand awkwardly to the side of everyone walking by. She doesn't even notice, until she passes a mirror, that every part of her flesh and hair has been whited out and that her dress is decidely more... ethereal than she realised. The folds of the skirt shimmer in the light until she almost looks like some form of spectral illusion.
A ghost, her brain echoes as she drags her eyes away from the mirror and towards the grand hall that sets the stage for tonight. Fancy - the kind of fancy she's only ever been exposed to when someone needs monitoring as a suspect of some kind of supernatural ability - and completely... and utterly not her.
At the very least, Kate knows this isn't something she's getting paid for, so the urge to hide in the corner and observe peters out, replaced by a notion that drink would be excellent. With an entire table there, filled with food and punch, there's no reason not to indulge.
So she has a glass. And another. And her brain fogs and suddenly the only acceptable idea is to grab a passer-by's glass and float it in mid-air, because - hey - no one can see her, right?
"Boo," she drawls, hoping to see her victim jump with surprise.
kate galloway. oc. open obvs.
The dress she's stuck in - silver, floaty, and completely wrong for her preferences - makes Kate wriggle and stand awkwardly to the side of everyone walking by. She doesn't even notice, until she passes a mirror, that every part of her flesh and hair has been whited out and that her dress is decidely more... ethereal than she realised. The folds of the skirt shimmer in the light until she almost looks like some form of spectral illusion.
A ghost, her brain echoes as she drags her eyes away from the mirror and towards the grand hall that sets the stage for tonight. Fancy - the kind of fancy she's only ever been exposed to when someone needs monitoring as a suspect of some kind of supernatural ability - and completely... and utterly not her.
At the very least, Kate knows this isn't something she's getting paid for, so the urge to hide in the corner and observe peters out, replaced by a notion that drink would be excellent. With an entire table there, filled with food and punch, there's no reason not to indulge.
So she has a glass. And another. And her brain fogs and suddenly the only acceptable idea is to grab a passer-by's glass and float it in mid-air, because - hey - no one can see her, right?
"Boo," she drawls, hoping to see her victim jump with surprise.