[closed, complete]
WHO: Rikku (
cunningness) and anyone.
WHAT: She’s just out grocery shopping, scoping the city. In disguise.
WHERE: Streets.
WHEN: Now.
The bright red apple shined faintly in the late afternoon sun as Rikku held it up, scrutinizing the produce’s skin. Deciding that it was acceptable, she placed it in the basket slung over her arm and moved on to the next stall. She’d decided that a trip to the market was in order, so there she was with a basket full of fruit on her shoulder and a cut-off blue-jean pocket full of money. In spite of the fact that the cash in said pocket was more or less all the money she physically had to her name, it was good to get out of the garage and move around a bit. The kynyka had just seemed crowded lately, and, claustrophobic by nature, she’d been antsy to get out for a while.
Even if she did have to go to the trouble of dying her hair and putting on an outfit that was decidedly too modest for her taste.
Red, she had long ago decided, was not her favorite hair color. It was more of a deep mahogany, really, but that wasn’t the point. Even though pretty much any shade worked for her, she knew she’d always preferred being a natural blonde. The dye would rinse out after a shower or two or five, but she kept twirling a lock around her finger and just staring at it absently from behind the lenses of her sunglasses. Doing so for too long would remind her that the blue contacts were starting to make her eyes itch, and she’d squint and wiggle her nose much like a rabbit. Experience had made her perfect the art of hair coloring, and if she hadn't known better, even Rikku herself would have thought the red was natural. She pushed the lime green-framed shades farther up on the bridge of her nose and peered down at the fruits displayed before her, tapping her yellow-polished fingers on her tanned thigh as she scrutinized their mostly unblemished skins.
Reaching up, she brushed mahogany bangs from her face before absently tugging at a piece of linen wrapped around her left wrist, over her palm, and between her thumb and finger. As much as she wished the bandage was for show, that wasn’t the case. She’d had a nasty encounter with a haywire machina and a few wrenches the day before, and had sprained something in her hand in an attempt to stop a screwdriver from impaling her in the side. As the young thief set a few peaches into her basket, she made a mental note to figure out exactly what had malfunctioned with that machine when she got home. There hadn’t been any faults on the outside, once she’d managed to shut it down, so that meant the problem was internal. More than likely, the better half her night would be spent sitting on the garage floor with a disassembled machina in front of her, puzzling out what had gone wrong as her conscious screamed for her to get some sleep.
She hummed lowly, a wide smile gracing her features just from being outside, in the open air and not surrounded by the smell of engine oil, grease, and burned metal. The basket was swung onto the makeshift counter and paid for; her smile grew a bit broader as the clerk gave her a discount along with a warm smile. She idly wondered if it was that easy to tell she was pretty much broke, but just gave a polite, “Thank you,” before moving on. She switched the bag to her right arm and smoothed down the front of her tight white tank-top as she sauntered down the street. The basket wasn’t extremely heavy, but she still winced a bit at the pressure it put on her wrist. She should probably get it checked out, but doctors and her had never gotten along, and she wasn’t about to start getting friendly with any of them now.
Sliding her glasses up on her face again, she picked a direction away from the fruit market and started down the street towards the next stand. She probably should have been on her way home, but it was well over a half mile’s brisk walk, and she wasn’t that eager to eat. Besides, it was a nice day and there were a lot of people out. A lot of people generally meant a lot of wallets, and her not-so-inner thief was most definitely more interested in palming a few extra bucks than sinking her teeth into the ripe produce she’d just purchased.
cunningness) and anyone.
WHAT: She’s just out grocery shopping, scoping the city. In disguise.
WHERE: Streets.
WHEN: Now.
The bright red apple shined faintly in the late afternoon sun as Rikku held it up, scrutinizing the produce’s skin. Deciding that it was acceptable, she placed it in the basket slung over her arm and moved on to the next stall. She’d decided that a trip to the market was in order, so there she was with a basket full of fruit on her shoulder and a cut-off blue-jean pocket full of money. In spite of the fact that the cash in said pocket was more or less all the money she physically had to her name, it was good to get out of the garage and move around a bit. The kynyka had just seemed crowded lately, and, claustrophobic by nature, she’d been antsy to get out for a while.
Even if she did have to go to the trouble of dying her hair and putting on an outfit that was decidedly too modest for her taste.
Red, she had long ago decided, was not her favorite hair color. It was more of a deep mahogany, really, but that wasn’t the point. Even though pretty much any shade worked for her, she knew she’d always preferred being a natural blonde. The dye would rinse out after a shower or two or five, but she kept twirling a lock around her finger and just staring at it absently from behind the lenses of her sunglasses. Doing so for too long would remind her that the blue contacts were starting to make her eyes itch, and she’d squint and wiggle her nose much like a rabbit. Experience had made her perfect the art of hair coloring, and if she hadn't known better, even Rikku herself would have thought the red was natural. She pushed the lime green-framed shades farther up on the bridge of her nose and peered down at the fruits displayed before her, tapping her yellow-polished fingers on her tanned thigh as she scrutinized their mostly unblemished skins.
Reaching up, she brushed mahogany bangs from her face before absently tugging at a piece of linen wrapped around her left wrist, over her palm, and between her thumb and finger. As much as she wished the bandage was for show, that wasn’t the case. She’d had a nasty encounter with a haywire machina and a few wrenches the day before, and had sprained something in her hand in an attempt to stop a screwdriver from impaling her in the side. As the young thief set a few peaches into her basket, she made a mental note to figure out exactly what had malfunctioned with that machine when she got home. There hadn’t been any faults on the outside, once she’d managed to shut it down, so that meant the problem was internal. More than likely, the better half her night would be spent sitting on the garage floor with a disassembled machina in front of her, puzzling out what had gone wrong as her conscious screamed for her to get some sleep.
She hummed lowly, a wide smile gracing her features just from being outside, in the open air and not surrounded by the smell of engine oil, grease, and burned metal. The basket was swung onto the makeshift counter and paid for; her smile grew a bit broader as the clerk gave her a discount along with a warm smile. She idly wondered if it was that easy to tell she was pretty much broke, but just gave a polite, “Thank you,” before moving on. She switched the bag to her right arm and smoothed down the front of her tight white tank-top as she sauntered down the street. The basket wasn’t extremely heavy, but she still winced a bit at the pressure it put on her wrist. She should probably get it checked out, but doctors and her had never gotten along, and she wasn’t about to start getting friendly with any of them now.
Sliding her glasses up on her face again, she picked a direction away from the fruit market and started down the street towards the next stand. She probably should have been on her way home, but it was well over a half mile’s brisk walk, and she wasn’t that eager to eat. Besides, it was a nice day and there were a lot of people out. A lot of people generally meant a lot of wallets, and her not-so-inner thief was most definitely more interested in palming a few extra bucks than sinking her teeth into the ripe produce she’d just purchased.