(01.03.35, Mid-Morning) Skin Deep (O)

[Rushil Ugra]

Rushil Ugra, walked down the long boulevard of the mixed district that led to Kaka Yo, his second favorite place on the ship. Though his handsomeness was natural, like all of the Ugra bloodline, it took work to bring it all to life. Rushil had been a patron of the boutique since he was at least fifteen. His first foray into the world of beauty products was for a new scent, that quickly went out of style a few months later. After that 'momentous' occasion, he was forever hooked into Kaka Yo.

This trip was for a similar product, eyeliner. His armory of eyeliner was beginning to run out and he needed to refuel. He had a particular brand of eyeliner made just for him that accentuated his sap green eyes. It was a light charcoal colour, almost grey. It made his eyes pop ninety percent of the time.

After a half-hour of walking, Rushil finally reached his sanctuary. He opened the door and found his way inside. The place hadn't changed much since his last visit, a month before. He loved the smell of the beauty products being created, it was like smelling a gods handy work. After inhaling and then sighing, Rushil sat down and waited his turn. A giant smile was plastered on his face. There was no way it was coming off.

[Dzara Chandai]

Dzara Chandai stormed the streets, which was unusual for her usually measured, graceful self. Her mod had malfunctioned. At least, that's how she wanted to term it. She didn't want to admit that she simply hadn't been paying attention to where she was going.

Walking through the clinic with her Static-Float modded copper hair was usually a simple enough task to achieve. But not today, apparently. Off early, she had headed toward the clinic's exit only to feel her normally light head snap back with a jolt. Not thinking to turn off the static chip, she turned toward the offending hair-snagger. It twisted, and the electromagnet that usually kept it in motion made it cling to the surface it was tangled around.

She, usually so full of grace, tripped and took the tangled mass, and an IV drip stand, to the floor with her. As it happens, six-foot metal stands with hooks on wheels and inattentive persons with Static-Float mods don't get along.

Now approaching her saving grace, Kaka Yo, hair a mess with a metal drip stand extension hanging down her back and a very unhappy look on her face, Dzara felt near tears in embarrassment. She was certain that little Sitala boy was laughing at her disgraceful form.

She burst through the door without looking at whomever might be behind it. She didn't really care. She needed her hair fixed now.

[Satyrling]

Arita Veyani was always so busy. All these pretty people, looking to get prettier just in time for all of the New Year’s celebrations. She was always, always happy to oblige them of course. It was known to anyone who was anybody that Arita ran a tight ship, in spite of being the sole employee.

(Some theorized there was some Sitala mechanism in her, too, because the woman’s endless cheer and energy made her too good to be entirely real.)

She loved her customers, and they loved her. But they made it slightly more difficult to love them when they were making lots of unseemly noise. Arita shot bolt upright from her massage customer at the sound of her lovely door smashing against the very nicely painted walls, the softest simper of distress the ship had ever known slipping past her tangerine painted lips.

Arita gathered up the folds of sari and shuffled to the front of the store, huge dayglow-blue eyes peeking around the shelf of neon hair products, to scope out the damages before speaking. She moved into full, splendid view, all smiles.

“Greetings, and welcome! What may I do for you, miira-shuri?” She slipped close, eyeing the woman’s hair the way one might look at an injured child. “I’ll be with you in one moment, Ugra-shuri!” she beamed to Rushil. She knew him well, precious and appearance concious little thing he was.

[Dzara Chandai]

Dzara's eyes misted in embarrassment. She was surrounded by other customers, and suddenly even more self-conscious (if that were at all possible). She tried not to look at the neglected customers and held a hand to her chest, verklempt.

"Arita Veyani, Dzara Ava Chandai," she introduced herself, "I-- I wasn't looking, ehm... where I was going, and my S-F, well," she waved her webbed fingers at the mess, trying not to be overcome with embarrassed, upset tears.

"You can see what happened," she managed.

((Sorry if I got the name greeting wrong. Let me know if I did and I'll fix it!))

[Rushil Ugra]

Rushil was raised prim and proper. A hair never fell out of place on his perfect camel-colored head and his piercings and jewelry were always worn according to the latest trends. Unlike the Svatantra, Rushil (like all Jagat-Natha) only had practical mods. Now, Rushil was as narcissistic and full of vanity as the next Jagat-Natha, but he would never sacrifice valuable luxury credits on malfunctioning machinery. He never quite understood the appeal of 'vanity' mods. What could be made with 'vanity' mods could easily be made with a good amount of makeup and a comb.

The Svatantra's commotion had distracted Rushil to the point of not registering Arita Veyani's welcome to the shop. Rushil was an easily distracted man. His intellect was only able to be tested in quiet rooms with grey walls.

After a moment of staring at the Svatantra, Rushil looked about the room once more. Upon his eyes return to the Svatantra, Rushil was suprized to see Arita Veyani starting to counsel the frantic woman with the hair of waves. The trip to Kaka Yo was turning out more eventful than Rushil has suspected.

[Cap O' Rushes]

Arita drank in the sight of Dzara's hair. Yes, yes, that was quite the mess indeed. Quite the mess and--

She had another customer waiting for her in the back! So hard to keep track of, all these lovely people. Trying to be lovelier all the time, but there was just so much Arita could do herself! While Dzara's malfunctioning mod was quite the mess, it was a mess that could wait. It would neither get better nor degrade in the span of mere minutes (or hours, depending), but the dear client in the back? Well who knew how long she would keep.

"Chandai-shuri, Ugra-shuri, apologies!" Arita was all tangerine smiles and expansive gestures. "I'm with a client at the moment, if you two would care to wait?" Manicured hands gestured at chairs available for just such purposes. Without waiting to hear what response they might have had, she gathered herself up and disappeared into the back.

[Dzara Chandai]

Dzara cringed internally at having to wait to have her hair fixed-- especially waiting among other people-- but nodded politely. It was all she could do to not hide her face behind her webbed fingers as she took a seat in one of those plush chairs.

She glanced at Rushil, sitting pretty and perfect, and wondered, what under the sular could he need done? Some people looked so clean and manicured all the time, and Dzara was usually one of those people (it came with being a doctor, of course), but today was not that day.

Not wanting to be rude, she glanced at the waiting patrons and bowed, her eyes downcast, and cleared her throat, "Apologies for the commotion. I was... distressed."

[Rushil Ugra]

Rushil eyed the Svatantra closely. What Ralasi in their right mind would let there mod malfunction in public, let alone in a mixed district where all families could see. Rushil was one of those generic well prepped men of Jagat-Natha descent. He never walked out of his home unless he was dressed to the nines plus three. He found the Svatantra's ill-discipline to be a bit revolting.

But, he had to be jovial to her, lest his reputation be compromised. He glanced at her, thinking of what to say. He bit his tongue to keep the bad words in his throat at bay. He quickly cleared his mind of the bad thoughts and purified his brain.

"It's quite . . . alright. We all have those days." Except me,[i] Thought, Rushil

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