Covent Garden Flowers, Sunday
Eight stood in the middle of the flower shop, implants extended as he built new flowers from light and nanofiber. Their shapes varied from exotic and strange to near-natural, the colors vibrant and glowing.
He'd gotten a shipment in this morning, new fibers he was still learning the feel of. Not the best quality, but he hadn't cared, because the rest of it was something he'd spent almost the last of his money on - one actual flower. A bromelliad, not quite yet in bloom. He'd spent hours looking at it, feeling and recording every speck of it he could. Now he was indulging his art, the flower securely locked in a climate-controlled sunbox in the back room.
Everything else in the store was for sale, if anybody stopped by.
[Open post!]
He'd gotten a shipment in this morning, new fibers he was still learning the feel of. Not the best quality, but he hadn't cared, because the rest of it was something he'd spent almost the last of his money on - one actual flower. A bromelliad, not quite yet in bloom. He'd spent hours looking at it, feeling and recording every speck of it he could. Now he was indulging his art, the flower securely locked in a climate-controlled sunbox in the back room.
Everything else in the store was for sale, if anybody stopped by.
[Open post!]