[center][h2][colour=32810a][b]C[/b][/colour] [colour=68f123]L O V E[/colour] [colour=32810a][b]R[/b][/colour][/h2][/center][hr][colour=32810a]Clover laid sensually on a loveseat in her office as if she were awaiting bad news. Supposedly, the older a person is, the faster they perceive time - when years feel like days, what kind of life will she lead? Clover sunk deeper into the chair’s cushion imagining it was the molten embrace of a star. She collapsed into the plasma, her parts disintegrating as they shed off of her amorphous body. Home; like a goldfish dropped into a bowl - of fire.

As Clover contemplated her age, she had an epiphany: she’s not that old, she’s definitely not that old because the day was moving so @#$%ing slowly. All of a sudden, Clover had broken free of the gravity of her ennui. She propelled herself upwards in one slick movement and made her way to a small storage cupboard connected to her office. It’s clunking metal door slid open to reveal a walk-in closet small enough for one person.

This tiny sanctuary held tickets and trinkets from various configurations of crews she’d worked with. It was a one metre squared time capsule lit by an eclectic assortment of stringed lights and bulbs. One wall held a full length mirror plastered with photographs, another was lined with alchemy droors containing mementos and the third was fitted with a rail that hung the most incohesive collection of clothes found anywhere in the fashionable universe. 

Clover loathed wearing clothes, however, were she to step out onto Dakarin exposed, she’d likely be hacked up by moon merchants and sold for parts. She put on a purple high neck sweater with four arms and a comedic quip in an alien language, a tartan pair of pants with flares and finally a carbon black gothic cloak. Clover looked in the mirror, satisfied she was suitably concealed and immediately synced with the ship’s intercoms.

[colour=68f123]“Attention crew, this is an emergency! The ship is malfunctioning - WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE. Your tiny little short lives are too precious, please evacuate immediately and meet me outside… with credits.”[/colour] She cried. Her melodramatic appeal could be heard in each nook and cranny of the ship. Clover had made her way outside down the ramp. She pulled up her hood and waited for her crew mates with a devious smile.[/colour]