Post by Sutton Francis on Sept 25, 2013 16:29:59 GMT -8
| [atrb=border, 0, true][atrb=style, line-height:120%;][atrb=style, width:350px; padding:20px; background:#f8f8f8; border-left: 40px solid #E0B1B1;] Sutton Elizabeth Francis "Do you want the truth or something beautiful?"  "Choose Beauty; you can't have both." It was certainly nice that Sutton Francis - former prima donna and debutante, and currently ballet-lover, King Protea's most charismatic and calculating blonde, and renowned beauty - did not ever resort to purchasing the lavish pseudo-manor in the city's fashion district, as she had not the need once Mason George invited her into the prestigious Alpha Sigma Delta House, where only King Protea's finest resided. It preserved her wealth, provided generously and lovingly by her beloved mother, and it kept her company. Everything was going according to plan, and soon, the magnificent Sutton Francis would be the most popular girl in school, as she once was, on the Upper East Side. She already was, and had always been in her life, the prettiest and most fashionable woman anyone laid eyes upon. However, today was not to be hers, but her best friend Skye's, of whom Sutton was the 'Heiress' to the fame once the elder girl graduated. The 5'8½" prima donna had assumed the Queen Bee and golden boy Mason George were meant to be. They were placed at the top of the social food chain; Skye was charming and manipulative, nearly as much as Sutton herself; and Mason was the son of a man possessing wealth far greater than even Mister Francis could have ever dreamed. Yet, it was all for naught, as Mason had proclaimed the Clarissa Stewart as his bride-to-be. Now, Clarissa Violetta Stewart had spectacular wealth of her own and such voluptuous curves that made any man fawn like a mindless schoolboy, but Sutton was not quite impressed with her. Her appearance was an identical replica of a Playboy Bunny's, and compared to Sutton, her acting talent was mediocre; the princess of the Francis family could see through every ploy and detail in her unconvincing performance, but Sutton had always been a perfect actress and was never deceived nor beguiled. Hence, when Skye hastily called Sutton with a trembling in her voice that had not been suppressed so well, the lighter-blonde gathered her unparalleled extortionate makeup collections, composed of Clarins and L'Oreal, both companies for which her mother had endorsed and represented for precisely two years during her time in the French Opera Ballet, and stocked a designer shoulder bag with a vast variety of ice cream flavors from which Skye could indulge herself during their post-breakup consolation session. Dressed in a soft pink chiffon blouse and skirt, white high heels, a white Chanel purse, and subtly studded pink bangles, all extortionately priced, the lovely Sutton near-dashed to her demoralized companion's quarters, leaving all bystanders surprised and envious of her inspiring ability to run so quickly in such high heels. It wouldn't have done anything for the loyal friend to knock on the set of ornate double-doors that led to the chambers behind it; Skye would not easily allow visitors at this emotional time, so with a turn of the knob and a light push, the doors opened easily and Sutton regally walked in, ice cream and cosmetics in tow, and quietly closed the door behind her so no intrusive interlopers could eavesdrop. Nothing but the resonating clicks of her heels were to be heard in the silence of the famous Skye Valentine's quarters; that was, until the recent transfer student approached the bedroom entrance and could make out the sound of small whimpers and imagine the tears glistening around the girl's grey-blue eyes. The sight of it broke her heart. Most people at King Protea believed the Ice Queen to be a mere frigid and flaunty bitch, incapable of emotions, but Sutton knew her better than anyone else, save for perhaps Mason. No... Today, she would not ponder that name, much less speak it in the presence of Skye. This afternoon, boys were stupid, mindless idiots with no purpose in this world, and their only functions in their systems were to selfishly jump into bed with women and to trample their feelings into oblivion. That was what the ice cream was for: to drown away any lingering thoughts on men. The beautiful Sutton stood with incomparably graceful poise before Skye, both manicured hands placed above her hips and her figure slightly turned to the side. She looked down upon her best friend, and the naturally regal shimmer in her pale-blue irises portrayed condolence and pity, simultaneously. It was true Sutton had never suffered the receiving end of a break up; she had always been the initiator, but she still knew how to sympathize for the poor girl. Her pure white smile was dazzling as always, but it was hinted with a melancholy response to the situation. Setting her purse on the lavish vanity dresser, the lighter-blonde sat down beside the tearful girl and twirled a couple of her dirty blonde locks with a finger. "I am here now, Darling. Whatever tears you have suppressed for so long, let them run. It's fine to cry, especially in a moment such as this," soothed Sutton, her silken voice laced with a genuine tenderness no ordinary person had ever heard. "Please, don't conceal your pain when in such privacy." Her porcelain hands were more smooth than the finest chiffon in Paris and Persia, and as they gently swept away the tears that escaped Skye's watery orbs, they would be of significant comfort and softness. |
