Monday, 28 March 2011

Fashion

Luminaire.

Laria felt a catch in her throat as she acknowledged the "Transition Complete" signal from the gate. The wounded heart of the Gallente Federation, and somewhere, deep inside her, still home. She set an elongated course to the one Gallente-controlled station in system, including an extended flypast of Gallente Prime.

Laria and Gallente Prime
The last time she had been here, she had still been undergoing basic pilot training at the University of Caille, now she was returning as a fully-fledged capsuleer. It was a dry, saddening feeling. "Say hello to your prodigal daughter," she thought, gazing at the sun-lit rim of the planet. She let the tiny Ishkur orbit slowly, her camera drone moving lazily around the ship. Caught between the sun and the planet, between here and there... between a child and an adult. She flicked the ship angrily onto a different course. Indecision was next to inaction, to denying responsibility. She would become what she wanted to become, and she would achieve what she wanted to achieve. One step at a time.

Laria over Astin
"How much!" Laria exclaimed, staring at the woman holding up the garment for her.
"Madam will understand, this is made by one of the finest designers..."
Laria waved her hand. "No no. It's a fifth of the cost of a Small Armour Repairer. I was just surprised. I'll have six." This was definitely a new experience. She knew, intellectually, that as a capsuleer she was extremely wealthy, but in general she'd been dividing things into "so cheap I don't have to worry" - food, quarters, etc and "expensive" - new Ishkurs, etc. This was the first time she'd come face to face the realisation that something that had been in the latter category could rapidly move to the former. Still, she had better be careful. There were a lot of shops on the Crystal Boulevard, and that could soon add up to serious money.

---

It was waiting for her when she got back up to the station, some days later. Absurdly, it was on paper - not a datachip, not a download to her pad. On paper. Hand-written. With "Do Not Pass This On" on a sticker on the front. Laria smiled, and carefully secured it in a sealed cannister that not only would be carried /in/ her pod, but had a beacon so that if the absolute worst happened, she still had a chance of finding it. It was much safer than putting it in the hold.

And much more possible, actually. It turned out that there were quite a lot of sassy outfits and items available on the Crystal Boulevard. Almost more than could easily fit in the hold of the small frigate. Maybe she should have brought the industrial. Still. Time to head back. Time to get active.

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