Instead of describing yourself like so:
She is both beautiful and terrifying, forcing
you to look away in awe, for no mortal eyes could view
such exquisite perfection without being scorched by
the flaming truth. Her body is more stunning than you
can imagine. At first glance, her face, like her hands,
is perfect, flawless, her rose-petal-soft skin as pale as
sun-kissed, new fallen snow. It is a face that could grace
a splendid piece of statuary to the ancient, forgotten
gods. It has that smooth, timeless, ageless quality. Her
gaze is cool, uninvolved, dispassionate, calm. She looks
as all patricians through the ages have looked; glancing
downward at the turbulent, squalid, squirming lives of
the peasants held within their disinterested grasp. The
glance is merciless, cold and pitiless as Justice.
Her eyes exude the same inhuman calm, only adding
to the quiet, irresistible power she radiates. Thick
lashes, each faint scarlet eyebrow a perfect arch above,
frame her deep emerald eyes, which gleam with iridescent
flecks of gold dancing, alight with intimidatingly deep
intelligence. Her full lips gleam, and wild scarlet curls
tumble freely down her back to her waist, restrained
by a small fortune in expensive diamond stars that
sparkle in their golden settings, barely holding back
the heavy glittering mane. She takes your breath away,
the flawlessness of nobility as yearned for by the
pale and envious earth below, gleaming like a creamily
pristine lily rising from plebian leaves in miraculously
exquisite ascension to the heavens above.
Her gown is of breath-takingly sheer material,
its layers being her only concession to modesty, yet
allowing her pale limbs to hint at such beauty as to
break the heart of the heartless. Palest egg-shell blue
it starts in unpatterned dimensions of silk, flowing in
endless streams about her delicate and shapely small feet,
deepening layer upon layer as it rises towards the heaven
of her deific face, until it finally frames her porcelain
perfection with the rich sable and indigo of thunderheads
shot through with scattered argent lightning, picked
out in rich detail by flawless diamonds and glittering
silver embroidery. Each layer is accurate, depicting
the dangerous, growing storm of the night as it throbs
about her wondrously unsettling form, until it finally
swells forth into draping banners of clouds about her
flawlessly shaped bodice.
Her haughty gaze locks with yours, and you cannot
but help looking away as one slender hand brushes back
an errant curl of fire. Instead your eyes are pulled to
her expensively glittering jewelry. A choker of cunningly
formed golden artwork encircles her slender, perfectly
pale throat, the writhing figures seeming to move in a
diabolically distracting dance about her, while earrings
of diamond and silver shimmer and drip like a waterfall,
pouring from her small and exquisite ear lobes. Adorning
her pale wrists gleam languorously jewel-encrusted
bracelets -- emeralds, rubies, and diamonds spray across
them like scattered dancing stars in a golden sky-setting,
while the luxurious rings on her roseate-nail-tipped
fingers arouse a longing desire, an aching need in your
breast. Even the most subtle flickerings of her fingers
cause them to blaze and excel the stars above with their
matching, mythically inspiring fire. |
you might try leaving a little more to the
imagination, like so:
She is beautiful and slender, as graceful
as a pale, fire-haired comet. Attired in an elegant
gown woven of night's sheerest gossamer, you can catch
gleaming diamond starlight picked out on each shimmering,
twilight-blue layer. |