Celestial☆Solace [Mort Faux X Fullmoon Filigree]

[Fullmoon Filigree]

Hello, all.
This is a one-on-one between myself and Mort Faux.
Feel free to watch, but no posty-posty, thank you very much~ heart

 

[Fullmoon Filigree]

~The Cast~

[~Kirala☆Mesuzuki~]

[~Darren☆Gray~]

[~☆Jiien☆~]

 

[Mort Faux]

ALL GOING TO ARCTALIS SYSTEM, PLEASE BOARD NOW. REPEAT, ALL GOING TO ARCTALIS SYSTEM, PLEASE BOARD NOW.

It wasn't her flight; there wasn't going to be a ship out of New Thessia for Jiien. Grounded due to simple inactivity, it was unlikely there would be any reason for the still young pilot to take to the skies any time soon. Yet, she could never get away from it, and found herself standing on a platform over the passenger loading docks, leaning over a transparent banister and looking out over the shipyard docks of the pleasure world. Trapped in paradise. She thought to herself, shifting to lean her back on the banister, looking up towards the ceiling and simply letting her hair fall back; she no longer kept it neatly tied up, as military command was lapse, indeed, they really didn't care about the personnel here, not expecting anything of them except to simply be there. Jiien was dressed in the usual dress uniform that was required when on duty, but not flying, and as of late, she had stopped wearing the flightsuit under it, knowing that she wouldn't be flying, and simply not bothering, though it left a bit of slack in her uniform. I can think of so many people who would die to live here... So why does it feel like hell?

People were bustling, in and out of restaurants, bars, brothels, theaters, and all manner of places of entertainment, and Jiien saw none of it, just another military personnel on base with her head down. While they weren't unwelcome, there were still many who saw the military as something to be avoided, and it left Jiien to her own thoughts, undisturbed despite the crowds, as she simply walked the street that ran between the hotel district and the docks. another day, another dismal route. Gee, I wonder what will happen tomorrow.  

[Fullmoon Filigree]

With a slow shuffle, Kirala calmed herself just as the lights dimmed and the applause began. The swaying silks that draped along her body came to rest on the floor as she stopped swaying alongside the music. A warm spotlight came on just above her, and she curtsied to the lounge's audience "Thank you, thank you all so much for coming tonight. Please, I hope you've all enjoyed; you're a wonderful audience." She gave the crowd a soft wink and curtsied once again, the spotlight disappearing and the microphone slid back into the slot on its stand. With an easy saunter, she stepped behind the curtains and went out of view just as another act stepped out on-stage, immediately mobbed by her crew, praising the simple performance. She flinched lightly as Darren gripped her wrist and started pulling her along, eager to get her back into her dressing room and away from the crowds.

"Was it good, Darren?" Kirala mumbled through the towel, wiping away the makeup covering her cheeks. Normally, a girl would be doing this; Darren shooed her away for the moment. "Your voice is as exquisite as always, Kriala." A light blush covered her cheeks at the compliment, showing through despite the artificial red coating her cheeks. "Sure, I guess. Hand me the makeup remover?" He complied and she squeezed the liquid onto the other side of the towel, cleansing her face and sitting back afterwards, a few drips of the solution having fell onto her dress. "Leave the room, mate? I need to get dressed..."

 

[Mort Faux]

"Remember dear... one of the best cures for a heavy heart is butter."

Jiien's mother had always been a little odd, though an excellent cook, and a bit on the heavy side because of a rather hearty use of said butter. And Jiien knew that being grounded for so long, and with nothing to do, her heart was both heavy and a little irate. Which was the reason she would often go to theaters or stadiums to buy popcorn.

It seemed that one venue had just ended and another was going on stage, as many people were coming and going through the lobby as Jiien waited in the concessions stand. It might have been easier, she thought, to just find another place that wasn't so crowded (she didn't even know who was playing here, as it were) but she had long since figured that this place kept the popcorn hot. Mom, you spoiled me... Chuckling inwardly a little at a memory of a full, small house and the scents of a hot meal in the oven, Jiien finally got around to getting what she went in to the place for.

Jiien found a bench to lounge on, having ducked down a few back hallways of the theater that seemed to be showing various musical groups; rather popular ones if the large crowds out front had been any clue. Back here, though, there were only a few staff members going back and forth, and no one ever really questioned a military uniform, so Jiien was left undisturbed... even if a GU pilot eating popcorn alone was a rather odd sight. Guess no one really cares after all, then.  

[Fullmoon Filigree]

Within moments, Kirala had taken care of her makeup and slipped into something much more unladylike, slipping away from the backstage hustle-and-bustle, hiding her face behind the floppy hood of her leather jacket and escaping into the crowds. Immediately a communicator buzzed in her ear; Darren, of course,

"Thirty minutes, you know the drill. You've got a show coming up, reme-,"

Without caring enough to grumble a reply, she reached up and took the small, bejeweled pin in her right earlobe and pull it out, the earpiece going dead immediately and leaving her with the sweet, welcome din of the uncaring crowds around her. Her hood was pulled low enough to obscure her face, and the leather was zipped up tight enough for her silhouette not to be recognized. The only way someone could possibly recognize her was the soft, mellow tones ringing out from behind the hood, fighting back against the crowd; she was singing along to the other pin in her left ear, a music player that pumped music directly into her brain, bypassing the need to use her ears altogether for anything other than navigating the crowds. Her hips swayed easily along the beat, each step seeming to pump downwards and toss the tartan skirt up lightly as she strutted to the rhythm, making her way to another theater. Since she had decided that now-time was her-time, she wanted to see a show, maybe head backstage and hang around with a few other musicians and talk shop.