Location: Hallen, outdoor mall. | Tag: @Ghostie 's Bellatrix, THE one and only Trixi.
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In normal, everyday circumstances, Pomona didn't find herself at this shopping center mid-afternoon, surrounded by regular people, behaving as them genuinely and not merely to blend in for other purposes. She was shopping. She was honest to god just shopping.
"Look, whatever we get we can make improvements on." She hummed with a half-lidded side glance toward her bestie to her right. Her grin eased along, becoming something sharp, shark-toothed in spirit. Well,
jackal-fanged being more like it. If they had to tailor a bit here and there on store-bought stuff, that was no problem.
And just because Pomona
claimed the money she used to buy the concert tickets had been legit, and the tickets had come through official sources, didn't mean that the funds they had for the concert
clothes had to be totally clean. It wasn't, and neither had a moral qualm about that. At least Pomona didn't, and assumed Bellatrix didn't either by their mutual track record. Look, when the world is rigged, change the rules.
They were the underbelly of Hallen. The grimy, chaotic, mischievous underbelly. Generally, laws were for
these people around them. The ones who were born and raised into a sunlit world, sustained on stability and structure. For the survivalists like Mona and Trixi?
Guidelines.
But that day, the pair meandered side-by-side window shopping. With their concert coming up, they'd agreed to search for fresh outfits. Maybe get hair and makeup ideas from this topside of Hallen society. Maybe for just one evening, they'd disappear into a concert crowd as
part of rather than as outsider scavengers. Though, scavenger-types were pretty bad ass.
Neither expressed an interest in genuinely fitting in with the stable topside of society, but there
was a touch of novelty to maybe really blend in for just an evening. Just one show, with no ulterior motive to lift any wealth from the sheep the coyote and jackal weres camouflaged amidst. Their only set goals for the
Sudden Revival show was to dance and yell songs til they lost their voices.
The pair strolled up to a popular clothing store, where Pomona's pace slowed to a languid halt. Lanky, under-fed limbs eased into a lazy posture - her right hip jut with a lean, and her skinny arms laced loose over her diaphragm. Her amber glance assessed this palatial entrance and the hints of many racks and colors just beyond.
At present, the jackal-were wore shredded, red skinny jeans under an oversized white t-shirt with some random city's name faded out on the central print. It'd once been some sort of trendy New Tokyo thing (a city she'd never been to), but she'd cut off the collar and sleeves and washed it out. A black tank top peeked from beneath.
"Watch us pull off being normies even better than normies, babe." Mona snickered delightedly. "C'mon." She slanted her head toward the door, keeping glints of her sharp grin.