The Dark.

Her exterior exhibited passion and grace. She was soft in touch but sharp in words. The eloquently way she articulated was soft and tender in manners. What she spoke of was power, terror, fear, humanity; her weapon was one not to be judged. Her power was exhibited in a fragile petite body with a giving, nurturing, misleading face. Her soul was hard, determined with passion and lust for perfection and knowledge. Her drive was immeasurable, and her intellect surpassed all but God, yet her ego allowed her to believe just that, leaving her rotten. However her ignorance collected immeasurable amounts of frustration and rage, carefully posed in her beliefs of what she should be. She pushed herself into the outer range of impossibility. She acquired the unattained, needed the absurd, no amount of achievement of possible and impossible, satisfied her thirst for victory. She sat posed on her seat, soft yet rigid. Her body was as tense as a lion stalking its pray, her face was as soft as a loving mother. She wore a modest yet revealing dress, shameful looking on anyone but her. Her makeup was heavily done to look natural, her eyes cold and fierce on the people in front of her, although she was not staring at them, but rather through them. They announced her presence with bows and nods not stopping there work, not out of lack of time, but out of lack of courage.