[h2]Peace. Love. Unity. Respect. [/h2] [h3]China Doll Galley, Evening, Greenleaf Day 2[/h3] OOC: JP between [@Aalakrys], [@MK Blitzen] [img]https://imgur.com/sn9wbri.png[/img] [hider= Music to Face Paint To] [youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AV2ZRUB3BDs[/youtube] [/hider] Cyd stared into the small mirror set up on the galley table with one blue eye staring back at her just as intently. On the right side of her face she’d painted one half of two tiered butterfly wing in pretty neon orange, yellow and blue colored face paint surrounding her eye. Now with a steady hand and fine brush, she outlined the design in a day-glo white. There were far too many flying socks and butt jokes in the shuttle to concentrate, and she’d donner either sib if she had to start over. “Pretty,” Penelope said mid-stretch as she walked into the galley to see the design-work playing across Cyd’s face. The pilot had just finished up a simulation with Sam checking over the Doll’s logistics and whatnot, leaving her hankering for some sustenance. As she moseyed on over to help herself, idly noting the continued absence of the deckhand that practically lived in the galley on the way, she asked: “Fun plans tonight gettin’ ya all decorated up?” Cyd glanced up from the mirror. “Aweh, Pen, plans for a madder jol!” She replied excitedly winking from her butterlfied eye. “Er, a rave. Me and the sibs. Day-glo will look lekker if you’re rolling.” “Looks, ah, that way now, I think,” Penelope didn’t sound certain, but continued on her way to find out what she could scrounge. Her skills were definitely not aligned with cooking, but she could slap together an edible concoction when pressed. As she rummaged, she asked: “Goin’ into the city or takin’ the party underground?” “Underground, oweh? You’re welcome to tag with me and the sibs, I don’t know the DJ, but I have extra kandi.” She held up her left arm, with brightly colored plastic bracelets stretching from her wrist midway down to her elbow. “Just a bunch of bravs and bunnies, loud music, a little bit of drugs, or … a lotta bit of drugs, everyone loves a rave.” The cupboards looked a little low, which wasn’t surprising given all the good food they’d been eating as of late. It was unlike anything Penelope was used to, flying transport as she did. Maybe it was a good indication that Cal and Rex managed funds well… or a sign that they flew through coin as swift as it was earned. No sweat for her though. Not much was. And Penelope had just found a carrot to shred into the can of soup she planned on heating as she listened to Cyd. “I only been the once, and it was on business - wild sort of fun, it looked. Place called Primordial.Or Primal… Primal Instinct?” The lid of the can popped off as she completed the name, and she looked down at the contents just about as pleased as she had been about any other meal. As she moved on to heating it, she continued talking with a grateful smile at Cyd for the offer on the tail end since she’d been keen to actually participate. “Folks - ah, bravs and bunnies? - worked there were painted up all tribal in that glow paint and wore next to nothin’ but foliage design. Always meant to go back… or, to any sort’a ravin’.” “Oweh?” Cyd asked. “This is underground, pop-up. [i]folks[/i] wear what skin they’re in. It gets mad hot, so shorts, bikini, tape, whatever says you. Like paint.” Cyd dramatically showed off her butterfly wing design - then giggled at her own antics. “Says who you are.” Sliding out the seat next to her for the pilot, she held up the pallet for Pen to see, and asked: “You want to try?” It might have sounded mad to some people, but Penelope was definitely following what Cyd was putting down. The colorfulness of a butterfly suited her, too, she thought as she considered the offer. Her eyes on the chair and spoon tucked between her lips. “I ain’t got any more plans for the evenin’, an’ it sounds fun.” She sat the spoon aside and flipped off the heating plate as she moved away to join Cyd at the table, musing along the way. “I never much thought about what says who I am… but all the rest makes sense now on the leaf-like clothes.” “If it’s who you are,” Cyd said with a wink of a butterflied eye. “So… who is Pen, the pilot? First things first. Single or taken?” Penelope laughed as she took the seat, finding amusement in most things was natural. Cyd made it easy though, the animation and life in the other woman more pronounced if possible by the vibrant wing on her face. The grin on her face had her eyes dancing along in the infectious levity of her company. “I don’t have no commitments to nobody - ‘cept the Doll’s next job, but that ain’t what ya meant.” Cyd smiled, and dabbed a sponge in some primer. “Right side. Left side means your heart and someone else’s have a matchy beat-beat-beat..” She pointed upwards towards the ceiling, indicating for Pen to look up while she dabbed some primer beneath the eye and onto her cheek. “No commitments,” she repeated, making a note to herself. “Tell me something true. Three words. Who are you?” The cool sensation of make-up being applied against her cheek was a first, or at least a first in a long time, but she followed directions as given and thought of the last time. It was nicer this time around. “Huh… “ The question gave her something else to think about. There were things she liked, and things she did, and things she was good at… but three words that described who she was. That was honest? That was a lot. And the ceiling could look nicer with some kind of decoration… Without moving, she looked over her cheeks down towards Cyd, that glint in her eye still. “I feel like I’d need some’a them drugs ta answer that question.” Cyd giggled, pointing down this time so she could put primer over Pen’s eyelid and brow. “A mystery, even to you, oweh?” She said playfully, tapping her thumb to her chin while she thought. “Favorite colors then. I like things that come in threes.” Penelope sighed, “Can’t go choosin’ one color over another when they all have merit. Can’t appreciate one without another to compare it to, and some don’t work in certain lights or in certain settin’s. Ain’t their fault. No reason to like another more for it when the one could be much better in another palette.” She thought for a moment, going back to Cyd’s first question and still coming up empty. It weren’t that she didn’t know what the other woman was getting at, because she often asked similar questions of her little creations as she toyed with them. Not expecting a vocalized answer, of course. Applying it to herself, though, that was interesting. “Reckon I’m more the sort to just be me without thinking on it too much.” Cyd gave that a moment’s thought, pursing her lips, tilting the girl’s head slightly to the side. Hazel would pick up any colors she used, but the colors she used would determine if the pilot’s eye would shine green or blue or gray. She was close enough that inhaling brought the faint scent of citrus, lemons and grapefruit, it was light and pretty and very much suited who Cyd thought her to be. With a smile, she had her idea, and dipped a brush in some emerald grease paint. “Sometimes,” the girl with the aqua hair said thoughtfully as she dotted the paint along Pen’s face, “it doesn’t need to be about who you are, or what you want to show the world.” She worked the rest of the way in silence, using yellows and pinks and whites, something small, right above the eyebrow, then held up the mirror for Pen to see. Cyd gave her small clusters of white flowers with hints of pink and yellow, situated on green leaves, and accented by tiny white stars. Pink like grapefruit, yellow like lemons, green for her home planet. “You can wash it off if it’s not your style,” she offered. “I didn’t want to give you anything big. A pretty face shouldn’t be hidden, oweh?” Despite her own artistic ability, Penelope didn’t assess the work alongside her eye with any airs. Her soft smile was true as her gaze went from the pleasantly delicate and simple piece to Cyd. “I like the touch of stars you added in. Suits me just right, I think, though sayin’ it out loud might seem like I got a big head now you done said that.” Her grin spread at the last, this fun-poking side of her apparently sticking around. First Abby, then the Cap’n, and now Cyd. Penelope hadn’t felt this at ease in a long time. “Reckon I should go get dressed - or, dressed-down, from what ya said. Don’t want to keep ya.” “Dressed down, it’ll be lank hot, oh, and last thing,” Cyd said before the pilot left. She searched her arm for a decent starter, yellow, pink and white plastic beads that matched Pen’s make up. “Your first kandi. You can keep it or trade it if you wanna roll.” Cyd handed over the ‘jewelry,’ then collected her paints and supplies. “Madder dancing!” she called shuffling as her rave sneakers flashed blue, pink and green. Penelope looked at the little beads in her palm, head slightly tilted, then up to see Cyd moving away. She smiled at the energy of the other woman. “Alright, thank ya. I’ll bring ya somethin’ for it. Meet ya at your shuttle?” “Lekker!” Cyd called back, already dashing off to tell the sibs they had a plus one for the night. The pilot turned and went the other way, back towards her bunk to find something loose and light. It wouldn’t be difficult as most of her clothes were of that sort, the ones she’d backed away with her when she left Hafez’s estate. As she rummaged through the colorful assortment, she made note of worn or faded pieces in the limited collection. That sense of permanency settling into her decision to stay on with the China Doll past Greenleaf, her homeworld was trickling into other decisions as well. The last crew she’d been with, she never did anything on shore leave with them. And now she was looking forward to whatever sort of adventure she’d just signed on for with the tentative long-term passenger. The smile spread across her face at the notion as she pulled up the crochet bralette top she’d worn on her travels of New Melbourne’s beaches and accompanying cut off mid-rise shorts. That would work, yeah? Only one way to find out.