08-02-2022, 10:54 PM
Planet Houston; Texas Penitentiary System; Republic of Liberty
Had this trip been settled on any earlier than it was, then the would-be tourists would have been plagued by a dust storm which had blown its way through Marlton's city streets only two days prior. And although these events were fairly tamed when compared to the more extreme environments Sirius offered, it was still a bother to the local population and put a wrench in affairs city-wide.
Arriving at the Starport, there was this prevailing sense of lost glory, with many of the buildings still embellished in a manner that seemed reminiscent of the traditional Liberty aesthetic that was grand and bold. Although even the dullest of eyes would be able to tell that wear and tear had worked its way across everything, where things must have all glittered like gold at some point, they were now dull and destitute. The older the building and the more pronounced this effect was.
Left to her own devices for about ten minutes, de Marco could perhaps appreciate the stark contrast this environment offered, prosperity was a foregone conclusion here, people forced to be more concerned with trying to live from paycheck to paycheck and everything here reeked of it. People had no time to be nice or to be warm even if the sun was exuberant in its apex overhead. Their futures had all been gambled away, and indemnity was reserved for the people responsible.
The streets below were a bustling affair, mostly vehicles owned by the major corporate interests on the planet, transporting raw materials and finished product back and forth. That monotony only broken up by dirtier shuttles full of commuters piled onto the only avenue of mass transit, trying to be on time for their shifts at the local factory. The few examples of personal transportation that could be observed were either pitiful or pristine and an example that seemed to reflect more of the latter blew by before quickly doubling back to stop in front of her.
It was a hoverbike, colored a striking combination of matte black and chrome orange to accentuate its style. The rider clad from head to toe in what seemed like a protective bodysuit that allowed for a balanced mixture of form and function and with the colors inverted from that of the bike. The most obvious giveaway of who this was would be the provisions strapped down and secured to the tail-end of the sporty looking thing. That and the fact they clearly recognized her, enough to come back this way and stop for her. With a few seconds of silence passing by as a visor on the helmet was yanked up, the voice that followed removed any potential for lingering doubt.
"Welcome to Houston. And no, it doesn't get any prettier." She was free to take her time before joining him, and there was even a helmet on the back for her to make use of, generously embellished with yellow roses and no doubt symbolic of something. If a creative spin was put on this trip, it was possible to get away with calling it an alien visitation.
Arriving at the Starport, there was this prevailing sense of lost glory, with many of the buildings still embellished in a manner that seemed reminiscent of the traditional Liberty aesthetic that was grand and bold. Although even the dullest of eyes would be able to tell that wear and tear had worked its way across everything, where things must have all glittered like gold at some point, they were now dull and destitute. The older the building and the more pronounced this effect was.
Left to her own devices for about ten minutes, de Marco could perhaps appreciate the stark contrast this environment offered, prosperity was a foregone conclusion here, people forced to be more concerned with trying to live from paycheck to paycheck and everything here reeked of it. People had no time to be nice or to be warm even if the sun was exuberant in its apex overhead. Their futures had all been gambled away, and indemnity was reserved for the people responsible.
The streets below were a bustling affair, mostly vehicles owned by the major corporate interests on the planet, transporting raw materials and finished product back and forth. That monotony only broken up by dirtier shuttles full of commuters piled onto the only avenue of mass transit, trying to be on time for their shifts at the local factory. The few examples of personal transportation that could be observed were either pitiful or pristine and an example that seemed to reflect more of the latter blew by before quickly doubling back to stop in front of her.
It was a hoverbike, colored a striking combination of matte black and chrome orange to accentuate its style. The rider clad from head to toe in what seemed like a protective bodysuit that allowed for a balanced mixture of form and function and with the colors inverted from that of the bike. The most obvious giveaway of who this was would be the provisions strapped down and secured to the tail-end of the sporty looking thing. That and the fact they clearly recognized her, enough to come back this way and stop for her. With a few seconds of silence passing by as a visor on the helmet was yanked up, the voice that followed removed any potential for lingering doubt.
"Welcome to Houston. And no, it doesn't get any prettier." She was free to take her time before joining him, and there was even a helmet on the back for her to make use of, generously embellished with yellow roses and no doubt symbolic of something. If a creative spin was put on this trip, it was possible to get away with calling it an alien visitation.