Lyra and Riven walked through the sprawling atrium of a District Mall, their heels clicking in sync against the polished, light-reflective floor. The mall was a cathedral of comrce and technology, its vaulted ceiling made entirely of translucent smart-glass that shifted colors throughout the day, currently bathing the interior in a warm, golden afternoon glow. Holographic advertisents drifted lazily through the air above them, projecting images of perfus, accessories, and the latest fashion lines from Martian designers whose nas Lyra could barely pronounce.
Both won carried sleek handbags slung over their shoulders, and both were dressed to impress.
Lyra wore a gown that was impossible to ignore. It was a soft, radiant pink, the kind of color that seed to shimr under the mall’s ambient lighting, shifting between rose and coral depending on the angle.
The dress was cut with a modern, angular silhouette—off-the-shoulder with a high neckline that wrapped elegantly around her throat, leaving her collarbones and shoulders bare.
The fabric was so kind of synthetic silk blend, lightweight and breathable, with a subtle tallic sheen woven into the threads that caught the light every ti she moved.
The skirt flowed down to just above her knees, structured enough to hold its shape but with enough movent to sway when she walked. It was paired with white, low-heeled sandals that had thin straps laced up her ankles, and her hair was pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that emphasized the sharp lines of her face.
She looked stunning. Effortlessly so.
Riven, on the other hand, had gone for sothing bolder. Her dress was a deep, crimson red, almost the color of fresh blood under firelight.
The design was more daring: a sleeveless bodice with a plunging neckline that was just on the edge of provocative without crossing the line, held together by a series of thin, crisscrossing straps that wrapped around her torso like elegant restraints. The waist was cinched tight, emphasizing her figure, and the skirt fell in soft, layered waves that ended just above mid-thigh. The fabric had a matte finish, smooth and luxurious, and it moved with her like liquid. She wore black ankle boots with a slight heel, adding an edge to the otherwise elegant ensemble, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders in waves that frad her face.
Together, they looked like they belonged on the cover of a Martian fashion magazine, not wandering through a mall on a casual afternoon.
But that was exactly what they were doing. Shopping and bonding. Getting to know each other.
They kinda looked like this undercover spies in a way. But if they were trying to be spies then they would be failing miserably because all eyes was on them now and that was the number one failure of a spy.
But... Fuck the lookers, they weren’t here to spy, they were here to have fun!
The ladies stopped in front of a boutique, its entrance frad by a shimring forcefield that rippled like water when you passed through it. Inside, the garnts floated in the air (midair), suspended by localized anti-gravity fields that rotated them slowly so you could see every angle. Holographic price tags and style recomndations hovered beside each piece, updating in real ti based on who was looking at them.
Lyra reached out and plucked a green skirt from its invisible perch, the anti-gravity field releasing it with a faint hum. The fabric was light and airy, a pale mint green with delicate embroidery along the hem that glowed faintly under UV light. She held it up against herself, tilting her head as she considered it.
"Oh, you like this green skirt?" Riven asked, stepping up beside her and eyeing the piece critically. "It’s cool. Very spring vibes."
"Right?" Lyra said, turning to examine it from another angle. "I feel like it’d go with that white top I saw earlier."
Riven nodded, then turned her attention to a nearby display where a blue top was rotating lazily in the air. It was a cropped piece, sleeveless with a high collar and a geotric cutout pattern across the chest that revealed just enough skin to be interesting. But you know, she might put on a inside top before putting it on though.
The color was a deep, electric blue, almost glowing.
"Oh, you like this blue top?" Lyra asked, noticing where Riven’s gaze had landed.
Riven reached out and touched the fabric, the anti-gravity field releasing it into her hands. She held it up, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Yeah... this is nice."
"Nice?" Lyra echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That’s more than nice. Surprisingly nice?"
Riven laughed, draping the top over her arm.
They spent the next hour going through the boutique, pulling down pieces, holding them up, debating colors and cuts and whether sothing was worth the ridiculous credit price tags. They made jokes about so of the more outlandish designs—a jacket with holographic flas that actually flickered, a pair of pants that changed color based on your mood—and genuinely considered others. It was easy and comfortable, the kind of casual banter that made the ti slip by without either of them noticing.
And the crazy thing was, they barely knew each other.
Lyra had only t Riven ( I an actually...) a few days ago. They had exchanged pleasantries and nodded at each other across the training grounds.
But this? This was the first ti they had actually spent real ti together, just the two of them, without Tatehan around to diate or fill the silence.
And it was working. Sohow.
By the ti they left the boutique, both of them were carrying additional bags, their hauls modest but satisfying. They walked in companionable silence for a while, taking in the sights of the mall: the families and couples and clusters of teenagers moving through the space like currents in a river.
Eventually, Riven nodded toward a restaurant tucked into the corner of the second level, its entrance marked by soft, ambient lighting and a sign that read The Iron Lotus in elegant, glowing script.
"Want to grab sothing to eat?" Riven asked.
Lyra glanced at the place, then nodded. "Yeah, sure. I’m starving."
They made their way up the floating escalator: another piece of Martian tech that still felt surreal, and stepped into the restaurant. The interior was warm and inviting, all dark wood paneling and soft lighting, with tables arranged in semi-private alcoves that gave the space an intimate feel. A server greeted them with a polite smile and led them to a corner booth, handing them holographic nus that materialized in the air above the table.
They ordered...
Lyra went for so kind of grilled protein dish with roasted vegetables, Riven chose a noodle bowl that ca with a side of spiced broth, and settled into the comfortable leather seats, their shopping bags piled on the bench beside them.
For a while, they just ate, the conversation light and andering. They talked about the mall, about the ridiculous prices of so of the clothes, about the weird fashion trends that seed to be popular on Mars right now. But eventually, as the al wore on and the initial hunger faded, the conversation drifted into deeper waters.
"So," Riven said, twirling her chopsticks absently through her noodles. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"
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