(IC) Recline

In a station somewhere in Cloud Ring, Ghaya Alvahara turned the corner at the end of the hall that led into her loft’s spacious main living area. Wearing nothing but a pink fluffy towel and some matching slippers, she collapsed with an emphasized sigh on to her sofa, hands busy wrapping her hair in yet another pink towel. She had read somewhere that sighing has a psychosomatic response that aleviates stress and promotes deeper breathing. So far it worked for her.

“Market newscasts.” She said. A verbal command that told her rather large wall-mounted monitor to display current market news from pre-selected sources that she prefered. Holographics expanded off the screen, giving her supplamental data in full 3D.

Ghaya was what you may call a rising star in the mining business. She was smart, sly and couragous. An member of the growing Frontenac Industrial Enterprises mining fleet, she built in a few short years of plying the space lanes a reputation for taking mining assignments that seemed too risky, even to the immortal capsuleers. Marcus Frontenac himself had personally taken her under his wing and some say she was being groomed to one day command FIE’s vast mining fleet.

She rose again and walked over to her kitchen, part of the same large room, in order to work up a snack. She let the towels covering her body and hair fall away as she walked. After spending weeks in a pod mining ore in the deepest corners of nullsec, it felt good to be naked and let the air caress her skin. If someone had been able to peer inside through the spaceside window which took up the entire far wall, they would have seen a Minmatar goddess in all her glory and youth.

Tall but not lanky at just under 5 foot 10. Thin but quite fit, she was a regular at the gym. Plentiful in bosom and buttocks in that primal way that spoke to good Minmatar breeding. Her red hair was full, flowing just past her shoulders, and when wet the colour of deep blood save for luminecent blue tips. Deep off-green eyes were expressive and perceptive. Her face was youthful and eternally nymphish, thanks in part to her freckles.

As she let her tea steep, she checked her messages via her Aura-interfacing implants. Her latest nox hauls were selling fairly well, though she was considering shipping some of it out of the region to take advantage of shortages elsewhere. The usual pleasentries from Mr. Frontenac, who had become a bit of a welcome father-figure to the rebelious woman. Her contact at ORE contunuing their discussion on a massive Orca custom retrofit befitting her unique piloting style.A fair number of dating service messages await her as well.

Sifting through the dating messages, she thought that perhaps a carnal night out with a young stud eager to please would be just the thing she needed to blow off some steam. A sly grin many learned to fear formed on her face.

Life was good.

~ by psychediver on 03/04/2011.

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