Rapid flickers of bright colour flash by, red line beating hard across the New York sidewalk, as the noise of the night crescendos. Out of the colour, she walks hard towards you, commanding dalmatians in a shiny leather jumpsuit, tailored made in the Bronx. Facing you down on the street, the deep scar on her face only accentuates her growling beauty. Your heart beats faster as she approaches…Leather Cruella, queen of the sidewalk.
She still looked more pixie than female; something not quite of this world. She tried hard to disguise the light tips of her ears but even the red mask was no match for them. Donning a black ink feather cape and pearls, she stepped out into the foray, breathing heavily.
The red mask was strangely translucent and hurt her eyes so she stopped to rip a square in it, to allow her eyes to see. Other mask wearers stared at her insolence with disgust. She was well aware that blatant insubordination was a sure sign that she was an imposter but she had to risk it. It was important that she could see properly.
She did not realise that here, in this place, this action would reveal far too much of her pixie soul. An action that she would forever regret.