Groups
Description
Not particularly tall, slender. Dresses in scarlet PVC and stilettos, and knows exactly what that implies. Hair is black, short, blue streaked and spiked.Eyes are not dissimilar to those of a sheep; yellowish with a horizontal pupil.
Personality
Flirtatious, quick-tempered and dangerous. Likes to toy with people. Testy at times, often impatient and always arrogant.
History
It is unclear whether her appearance is due to species or cosmetic surgery, as she refuses to say. She likes to say that she’s a demon, or the like, but that should be taken with a pinch of salt.
Khali entered the bar, making sure to kick the door just so; causing it to lurch open and yet not make too big a dent in the wall, any more force and she would have broken her shoe, which was honestly quite a lot more expensive than some nasty bar door. She sniffed rather pointedly upon entering, smelling what appeared to be stale sugar permeating the room... disgusting.
Khali coughed rather pointedly in Kisa's general direction, because really, she could smell the girl from the door! From the door! Nobody needed to wear that much perfume, especially when it was stale and sickly sweet.
Khali smirked, all sharp teeth and wicked humour. "Hi there, you must be the one who insists on smothering herself in cheep perfume. How do I know this? Because I could smell you from the door, and now I'm choking on whatever fume you've chosen to permeate the bar with."
She reached out with a small hand (nails painted red and just a little too sharp for comfort) to tap the side of Kisa's face. "Might want to take it easy on the make-up, too, sweetie; you look like a cheep hooker."
Khali snorted as someone had the audacity to growl at her; what a joke. She lifted a carefully plucked eyebrow at Kisa. "Okay, so you're wearing make-up to 'cover the bruises', aww, poor baby." She didn't seem to care in the least, leaning back against the wall.
"And burned into your skin-? Don't make me laugh. I've heard of people unfortunate enough to give off an odour before, sure, but do you know what they tend to smell like? Fish, and occasionally faeces. I'm not buying that you smell like hot sugar just because."
Khali was actually rather glad that she didn't smell like a basket of roses, she smelled like a human being, which was what she had intended when she got out of the shower that morning. The perfume? That wasn't roses either, she had no inclination to go around smelling like a flower bed. "Love, there's "giving off your own scent" and then there's reeking of burned sugar; there's a difference. If I wanted to smell you, I'd stick my nose in your armpit. Yeah, not going to happen in a hurry."
She didn't seem at all bothered by the other woman's pretentious dress sense and attitude. "Might I suggest washing at least once a day and using deodorant? It does wonders, and if you still stink after that, go for a perfume that is subtle; I don't want to be able to smell you before I see you."
Khali blinked, stared, then burst into hysterical giggles, slumping back to lean against the wall, hardly able to stand she laughing so hard. Go suck a what? "Suck a- suck a rail road spike?! Oh, honey, I'd rather go suck a dick; much nicer than a hunk of rusty old metal."
She snorted. "And I live in a house, love, not a studio apartment; do your research."
Khali rolled here eyes as they chose to ignore her, choosing to breath through her mouth instead of her nose to spare herself the nausea. Sadly, she suffered the same fate as Azazyl and ended up tasting it instead.
Khali hung around the bar area; she had little interest for all the many retards in the room, but couldn't quite be bothered to leave.
Khali yawned rather expansively, leaning back against the bar counter. She knew exactly how she looked, what she appeared to be looking for, and couldn't care less. She was bored.
Khali saw jail-bait in its purest form (read: Pj Green) enter, and rolled her eyes. Her left contact was bothering her slightly, which was a pain in the ass, because she wasn't about to correct it in the bar. Instead she grinned, sharp toothed, at said jail-bait. "You could at least try to blag a shot of something, small fry. What's with all this OJ crap? You're in a bar, retard."
Khali snorted, trying not to all out laugh- she didn't succeed. "Your daddy told you not to talk to strangers? Aww, well ain't that just too fucking cute." The grin remained, but there was malice lurking there now. She wouldn't hurt some retard kid in a random bar, that wasn't her style, but she might as well kid him into thinking she would; it would give her something to do.
Khali was not really all that impressed at being ignored. "Hey, Blow Job and Blair Witch, let's not forger our manners, kiddies, or I might just tell the barkeep that there are brats in the room again. I was talking, and I don't like it when people talk over me."
Khali found his cowering rather entertaining, if she was being honest with herself, but didn't take that as an excuse to stop. "Sorry for what, you pathetic little whelp?"
Khali had a feeling that there was some hardcore self pity going on; the look on the boy's face was priceless. "Oh, come on, if you're going to lurk around feeling hard done by, can you at least try not to let it show?"
Khali actually laughed out loud at that one. "He doesn't know what it's like to be you? Poor, pathetic, hard done by little you." She smirked, still relaxed and reclining. "And how did I know? Have you seen that disgusting little kicked puppy face you keep pulling, or do you avoid mirrors for that very reasons?"
"That's a face not even a mother can love."
Khali cackled. "Sure she does, sweetie, sure she does. That's why she lets her teenage son wander around in sleazy bars looking like jail-bait. She wants you to get raped. Hell, you never know, it might do you some good; give you something to really feel sorry for yourself about."
Khali snorted as someone growled at her, looking at the creature in question. "So your dad totes you around his workplace, where all the customers can see you? Mmm, love, he's whoring you out and you never even realised. If only you were a little younger, I might just ask your daddy to have a roll under the sheets with you; I bet you'd scream."
Khali "Or what? You'll kick me? Bitchslap me to death? Set your sister on me?" Khali was finding this all far too funny; it certainly gave her something to do.
Khali smirked, teeth filed to points. "Ooh, you got some incestuous shit going on? I'm impressed kid. Tell me all about it; do you make her squeal?"
Khali slowly lifted an eyebrow, because really, what the hell was that?! "I'm not even going to comment on how much of a freak this makes you." She stalked towards the door, having no intentions of developing hepatitis or AIDS or something else unpleasant from the grungy teeth of a mutant tiger. "Have fun boning your sis, kid."