Indigo, Blue, Poppy, Green, Maple

A selection of character aesthetics. A dabble in adjectives, imagery, and description.

Her mouth was fully shaped, and her hair raven black. She was indigo; a midnight chill without direction, a silky mystery without formed corners. A dark beauty, with the fresh fragrance of waterlilies exuding her every step and breath. Quiet, still, but intense. A cold pool of icily clear water, basking under the moonlight. If you looked close enough, you could see the slight formation of curious desperation in her eyes. Her burden; her fear leaking through, disguising itself as swirling, navy intelligence. But her voice was soft, deep and inviting. Her presence was infiltrating. Indigo. Perhaps an academic, perhaps a motherly figure, perhaps an independent dream. A secret. She was a heavy whisper, real but bittersweet, and slightly untouchable. A gem. She held her memories close, but did not rely on them. They no longer beckoned to her, but were locked away to heal with time. The letter Z or M, the taste of purple, the feel of velvet. She was indigo.

Her hands were papery and crystal. Cerulean, maybe, but gave an impression of sky now and then. Her voice wavered with intention--a brave noise, stable in nature. She was blue; a wandering gift of comfort, as if her very presence was a requirement to life. She swooped in unannounced, but naturally, and was available until, eventually, she was allowed to permeate her every surrounding. Aloof and pretty, she was simple but entrancing. But perhaps it was her very ingenuity that gave this impression, or perhaps no one wanted to believe it, but there was something else about her. The way she gazed for moments on end, the way her hands tucked tightly to one another. An unspoken, distant call of an analytic curse. Yet she floated on, in her blue way, as waves curl and give wherever they feel. The swish of linens on a line, a rain shower's essence, the taste of the word cotton. She was blue. 

Her being was intoxicating. A ruby glow, a fruity magenta. She was poppy, with the capability to fluctuate between sweet and rich. The flow was easy, though; uneventful and expected. Her posture was confident, and every word she spoke dripped with personality and variety. Undying were her eyes, as they claimed every wisp of life they settled on, but lovingly let them go. She embodied hospitality's kind embrace, and drew out the value in whatever was around. She overlooked nothing but mistakes, learning and growing in an ever-changing love. Passionate to the core, her spirit shone with understanding and exploration. A multi-tasker, a deep golden brunette with a casual hand and warm eyes. Her voice undulated with laughter and a kind smile, forever stable. Or so it seemed. Yet maybe somewhere, possibly right under the surface, an irrational dissatisfaction resided, hidden away and only escaping in the miniscule milliseconds her eyes took to flicker. Patience could play it's part for that, though. She seemed so eternal; she was so potent and genuine. A hot bath's peace, a smile filled with hope, a tropical forest. She was poppy.

She was summer. A lime's sour, but playfully so, like a hint within a multi-faceted water glass. She bounced the light daringly but easily; naturally, in fact. A curiosity, her hips were thin and her smile wide. Energy tossed her short hair back, and danced within her happiness. She was green. A watery green, like the often overlooked raindrops on a leaf after a sunshower. She was mist, and she was alive. She bordered a clean yellow, her refreshing presence taken as an everyday gift. Like the letter E, similar to a young kiss--innocent and naïve, but fully pleasing to the senses. She entangled herself with the sounds, the smells, and even the sights of any situation, and used them as a swing to thrust her garden being into the midst. She was filtered and purified, bright and clear, moving and weightless. But though she enlightened the world into beauty with her very optimism, the past haunted her. She smiled it off, bravely facing the day and letting the memories bury themselves below her in the ground as she soared into the clouds. The fresh morning air, the light taste of ice in warm weather, the gentle but electrifying touch of the breeze. She was green.

She wasn't liked. No, but she was a choice. She was maple. Not quite chocolately enough to be brown, but a strong wooden flavor hissed from her skin. A blush often kissed her cheeks, offering some pink, and complimenting the warrior spirit within her. She didn't really seem to have a home, but instead was her own architect wherever she went. Her faults were unhidden; she demanded openly, providing her opinions and thoughts without shame. Her driven behavior gave her an air of intimidation, but almost also seemed to ground her, and others, to reality. She did not lose; no, even if she did not win, she did not lose. An academic, her intelligence permeated her every step. She tasted like gold, but felt like floorboards. A dusty book unafraid to show it's secrets. Strangely enough, she also held a scent of vanilla, caramel, and freshly baked break. She did not dwell in mystery, but was plain in discussion and looks. As brute as honesty, smart as a properly built building, and the sandpapery simplicity of khakis. She was maple.

Author's Note

Are the descriptions strong, or possibly too vague?