Summery: Zita is one of my many characters, who, while she has a who notepad full of personality and background, does not have any stories written about her. Serra, my friend's creation, who was made just for Zita, also does not have anything written with her. This isn't going to be some major plot story, as I am having horrible writer's block. Not to mention that I'm not that great at writing anyway. This will just be a short story made up of (hopefully) a few short chapters consisting of less than one thousand words per chapter. I'm not expecting reviews, favorites, or follows. I merely just want to upload this someplace. I'm hoping that since I do have it uploaded heer, it will push me to write more often than I have been. Hey, maybe I'll even be able to finish it, unlike so many other stories I have wrote.
"Another damn birthday party." Serra, the not so angelic angel, muttered bitterly under her breath as she strode out the door.
Her unnatural appearing stunning silver hair, that contained a few hints of gold, was put up. Though as short as it was, the usual style did not take much effort. On either side of her face hung a single crimped strand. Her unnatural silver eyes were looking rather unhappy. A silver sleeveless mini crop top was all that managed to cover her breasts. Instead of it looking trashy, the lace and puff made it appear elegant. Even Serra's jeans were silver. The length of said jeans were a mystery to any bystander as her silver books went all the way up to her knees, nearly blending in with the jeans. Two golden slightly pointed lines, almost as if they were arrows, ran along each side of the upper boots. Normally, a pair of beautiful silver wings, tips colored gold, and a silver halo would have been showing, but for today she had to glamor them away.
"Please, be nice, Serra." Zita pleaded, her voice soft, just above a whisper.
Unlike Serra, Zita's hair was a natural black, though some would big to differ as black as it was. A few strands of cyan ran through the black, only enough to add a slight pop. Her hair was done in a few big curls, roughly 3 on each side. Like Serra, her eyes were unnatural as well. Cyan with an inner ring of pink was enough to make anyone think the girl was wearing contacts. A gray outer corset clung around her chest, laced delicately up the middle. Her black skirt stopped a little above her knees. It was laced at the bottom with cyan colored cross styled stitches and topped with a cyan colored bow near her hip. To finish the look, she wore gray semi see-through tights and black wedged heels. Serra had to glamor some bits and pieces away from Zita as well. The girl, who was currently looking human enough, usually had black spotted cat-like ears, tail, along with some spots over her body. Without Serra, the girl would probably never be able to go out in public. Not without a few stares.
"Only for you, doll." Serra replied, turning her gaze downward to look upon her only true friend.
Zita was much shorter than Serra. While the angel was a good 6'1 in length, Zita was only a mere 5'5. The nickname was something Zita still wasn't too fond off, which only made Serra use it often. When vocal complaints hadn't worked, the younger girl resorted in making small faces. Serra, being an angel, was quite old, though only appeared to be in her mid to late twenties. Zita, on the other hand, only appeared to be in her early twenties, though some would argue she seemed much younger.
"You know I would do anything for you, but can we not skip just this once?" Serra questioned as she got inside of the car, driver's side. The last time Zita tried to drive, the poor girl began to have a panic attack. Behind the wheel was not the best idea for the younger girl.
"Roxi is waiting on us. We can't do that to her..." Zita's voice trailed off, as if it could get any softer. The angel sighed in defeat, not wishing to upset her friend. The fragile girl had a unique curse that caused her tears to turn into valuable crystals. Needless to say, this was not something Serra wanted to cause. Not even glamor could hide that, and there were too many horrible monsters out there that wanted to own Zita because of her crystal tears.
"Okay. Okay, fine. Just don't expect me to enjoy it." Silver eyes gave a small roll as she started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. Zita let out a small giggle as she buckled up, eyes lit up in happiness. Her older friend liked to complain a lot with these human traditions, as she found them boring. Sometimes it bothered Zita, but other times, like now, it only made her laugh and smile.