The Run of the Runway Jan 25, 2019 15:28:08 GMT
Post by Dasha Laska on Jan 25, 2019 15:28:08 GMT
Dasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited for the fashion show. She may have even talked about it to one of her coworkers who didn’t really show interest right after. She couldn’t help it. Going to see beautiful if maybe questionably functional clothing was just part of her #aesthetic, and she was going to run as far as she could with it.
A few texts had been exchanged between Dasha and Marceline in the days after, and when Sunday rolled around, Dasha was very, very ready to go watch. The only problem, however, was what to wear to the event itself. She had so many options, too many options, and too much of a shopper’s eye to really be able to choose. She had thought she would be bored on Saturday with nothing to do, but she was very very wrong in that regard. No, she had to go through all of her clothes and then some to decide.
When Sunday rolled around, Dasha found herself walking towards the venue in the clothes she had chosen. A white blouse with a golden chain in the collar dropping down to a blue pendant was covered by a black jacket. The jacket itself was rather fashionable but would be surprisingly heavy for anyone who actually touched it. Yes, armor came in all styles, and Dasha was one to relish it where she could. Her pants, however, were rather simple by comparison, a pair of slacks that held the outfit together. Her shoes had been substituted several times over with different things until she finally went with a pair of steel boots.
Her hair and makeup had been done several times over. However, now that she had her short locks on either side of her face and her features heightened by a few blue hues, she felt confident. Just in case anything happened, she had some makeup in the bag across her chest. Priorities and protocols and all that.
Looking down at her phone as she made her way up, she texted Marceline right after. ‘I’m out front, where are you?’