by Sparklebeard
The first time she met Julianne, Minerva was very drunk. She hadn’t meant to get shitfaced, but her roommate Aura kept buying more drinks which she didn’t have the heart to turn down, plus she wasn’t in the habit of drinking much anymore, so her tolerance had eroded a bit. Maybe more than a bit. When she caught a glance of a familiar face out of the corner of her eye as she turned to accept her fourth (fifth?) cocktail from Aura, she nearly fell off her barstool in surprise.
by Sparklebeard
(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/339012.html)
When the three of them had decided to find a place to live and work out of together, one of the few things they’d all agreed on from the start was that they each needed their own bedroom. It seemed natural that three criminals with their own quirks, only a few years into the habit of working on a team at all, would need some private space. Jules would get deep into planning and researching upcoming jobs and hide away for days; Ellis exercised alone sometimes but would, as far as Anthony could tell, just sit in stillness on the floor for an hour or two from time to time; and every few weeks Anthony himself got the bug to hole up and hack into a government agency or two just to prove he still could. It made sense.
What also made sense, though, was to make sure they made time to be together even in the midst of distractions, which is why Anthony had grown to love Sunday nights. When he’d suggested they set up a standing time to have dinner together and talk about new work and projects they’d be taking on, he wasn’t sure anyone else would be on board for it. But Ellis enjoyed any chance to cook for them, no matter how much he grumbled about it, and Jules needed a less scattershot way to let them know what she had in the pipeline for them, and to his amazement what he thought might be a failed experiment that fizzled out after a month was going strong half a year later. In a rare case of punctuality for all of them, 9 p.m. each Sunday saw Anthony and Ellis curled up on their large sofa, plates in hand, watching Jules pace around the room while she filled them in on new clients or brought them up to speed on active cases.
by Sparklebeard
illustrated by Iron Eater
(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/314348.html)
Nicola showed up for her date with Girril dressed, for the most part, appropriately for an evening in the Ri district of the station. While her normal style tended to involve dresses in the brightest colors and busiest patterns she could find, etiquette demanded that she forego such pleasures when in a majority-Ri area. Just as she wouldn’t parade about the Terran districts in her underwear, she needed to tone things down in her girlfriend’s neighborhood to avoid scandalizing anyone.
And if she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so entirely, she needed to at least give off the impression of propriety. So, while there was a splash of vivid turquoise on her eyelids and in her bootlaces, her outermost layer of clothing was beyond reproach: a skirt that fell to the top of her knee-high boots and a soft, long-sleeved sweater, both in the same shade of charcoal. The sweater was thin enough that one could get a glimpse of the camisole beneath it without being able to see quite what it looked like. On the surface, at least, she could walk through Cibur without offending anyone.
Mirror Index
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