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2016-12-28 09:29 pm (UTC)
Rey | OTA
None of this is real. At least, not the aesthetics. There isn't a sky hanging overhead, neither is there a vast ocean surrounding a coastal city. Rey knows that last part when she had attempted to swim her way out, only to find an invisible wall preventing her from going much farther.
Her hair and clothes are still soaking wet when she enters the shop, deciding to peruse the new selection. The produce is certainly different this time, as are the sets of clothes, hanging or neatly folded over shelves. Some might be a little too colorful for her tastes.
But, even then, she stops at the dresses lined up along the walls by hangers. Each of them just as vibrant in shade as the many other apparel here. Rey runs her fingers through the fabric, feeling the softness and its authenticity. The one in particular fetching her interest is a sleeveless red dress of cream-colored floral patterns, low hanging in the front, with the side slitting up to the thigh.
As anyone can expect, dresses and showy patterns don't really match her style. In fact, Rey doesn't have what you could call a 'style', unless one counted her usual tank tops and cargo pants as a style.
And maybe there are some who certainly could.
Still, it doesn't hurt to leave something to the imagination, as one might find their way to her at the end of a watery trail...
II. Night Beach
It has been a long time.
With the sound of crashing waves in her ears, the gritty sand beneath her, and the light chill carried in the breeze, Rey lays on the shorelines, spread eagle and not nearly as relaxed as she appears. Watching the sky turn from the radiant painted hues across the cirrus clouds to a twinkling blackness at the fading hours. Beer bottles surround her, along with the packages of sweet bread that she had already consumed.
The last she had done this, she wasn't alone. Her brother was at her side, and they talked about many things. Things that meant a lot to her now. Her chest aches when she remembers, and instead of the whistling of wind, she hears his voice. Instead of an empty heaven, she sees the way the moon had lit up the contours of his face, and something about him was so sad then. Whether it's the memory or the amount of drinking she's been doing, she can't help but feel a sort of sadness, too.
Her head spinning from the buzz of alcohol, she raises one hand up to the sky. Peers at the alien stars between her fingers.
"You're not up there..."
Rey says aloud under a quiet, shaky mutter, to no one who would ever give her the answer she wants.
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