She looked in the mirror and frowned, tugging at her sleek pony-tail. No matter how hard she tried, she would always be plain. Plain and unassuming to anyone watching the lunch-table. That's what I get for hanging out with a bunch of Fae, I guess, she thought to herself, still frowning in the mirror.
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They were pale, the lot of them. Even Marinda, who hailed from the Congo was pale, her skin a creamy mocha rather than the deep, rich brown it should have been. They were un-earthly beautiful, even without the glamour they enjoyed using on themselves when humans weren't around.
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The little town where the walls between the Real World and Kintaria were abnormally thin was aptly named Crossroads. Aptly named because, as the walls were so thin, anyone could cross from the Real World to Kintaria and back again without noticing or exerting any force of will.
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Avatars, by me
Avatar stylings done by me, mostly for me.
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