Post by Lemur, The Kool-Aid Guy on Mar 9, 2013 23:57:33 GMT -5
Ervisa Therani looked in the mirror as she carefully held the scissors in her hand. This was the culmination of two days worth of laborious reading, and the emerald-skinned woman's attempt to prove that while she wasn't much to look at from an academic perspective, she made up for it with a certain readiness to learn. She was staking her reputation on this, the ability to give herself a decent haircut.
It wasn't as if there was a plethora of salons in Waypoint. Besides, this was something personal.
The Mirialan woman had kept her hair in a braid that fell to her stomach for long years. That was her look, that was her style. However she was changing it now, trying something less... Less... Well, something that would make her look less like a videogame heroine and more like a grown woman in a steady relationship.
She'd decided on a style found online, and she'd even managed to pick up a few wigs to self-practice on. It would have been damned easier to just have someone else do it, but her stubborn streak was activated.
The snipping began, steady and slow. Periodically Ervisa would stop, and try to figure out what was left. It took several careful examinations of mirrors, and some special contortions only a Mirialan could make, but the Jedi turned pilot finally set the scissors back down and started to 'style.'
After what seemed like an interminably long and difficult effort, her slender hands stopped their movements and Ervisa looked at herself in a mirror.
"Damn girl," She said softly with a low whistle.
There was something new about the way she looked. In a way she even looked younger, happier. The blue in her eyes shone more brightly than ever, and soon she was surveying the closet.
Bikini. Shorts. Fatigues. Little black dress. More fatigues. Sun dress. Fatigues again.
It seemed Spearpoint had hijacked her wardrobe, but she'd still sneaked in some new and beautiful things she was hoping to surprise Horst with. Ervisa didn't really expect him to notice each and every little detail she was responsible for, but she was fairly certain he'd find a certain something to her.
For now though, she wasn't on duty, and that meant she didn't have to worry about fatigues. On went a pair of shorts, a plain-Jane tanktop, and sandals. Then out she went through the door on an aimless walk that would eventually take her to the new officer's club.
It wasn't as if there was a plethora of salons in Waypoint. Besides, this was something personal.
The Mirialan woman had kept her hair in a braid that fell to her stomach for long years. That was her look, that was her style. However she was changing it now, trying something less... Less... Well, something that would make her look less like a videogame heroine and more like a grown woman in a steady relationship.
She'd decided on a style found online, and she'd even managed to pick up a few wigs to self-practice on. It would have been damned easier to just have someone else do it, but her stubborn streak was activated.
The snipping began, steady and slow. Periodically Ervisa would stop, and try to figure out what was left. It took several careful examinations of mirrors, and some special contortions only a Mirialan could make, but the Jedi turned pilot finally set the scissors back down and started to 'style.'
After what seemed like an interminably long and difficult effort, her slender hands stopped their movements and Ervisa looked at herself in a mirror.
"Damn girl," She said softly with a low whistle.
There was something new about the way she looked. In a way she even looked younger, happier. The blue in her eyes shone more brightly than ever, and soon she was surveying the closet.
Bikini. Shorts. Fatigues. Little black dress. More fatigues. Sun dress. Fatigues again.
It seemed Spearpoint had hijacked her wardrobe, but she'd still sneaked in some new and beautiful things she was hoping to surprise Horst with. Ervisa didn't really expect him to notice each and every little detail she was responsible for, but she was fairly certain he'd find a certain something to her.
For now though, she wasn't on duty, and that meant she didn't have to worry about fatigues. On went a pair of shorts, a plain-Jane tanktop, and sandals. Then out she went through the door on an aimless walk that would eventually take her to the new officer's club.