the dog of destiny thrives on sniffing the stench of blood and gunpowder.
βββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
loved by sylas. 30s, mdni.
The jacket was fitted with several pockets for all the things she habitually carries; one large enough for a notebook, a pen pocket hidden tastefully behind a lapel, somewhere to store her multitool for all the tinkering she does.
She had tasked Blade with a delivery for @stellarnavigator.bsky.social's birthday.
Inside an elegant gift box, the navigator would find a luxurious, custom tailored travel coat, very clearly designed with her in mind.
The lining is where Kafka's influence would be most apparent.
Decorating the rich, silk lining were threads of shimmering gold, celestial motifs woven into patterns that resembled star maps.
There was no accompanying card with a greeting or a note to tell who the gift was from.
The garment, elegant and stylish, would fall just below her knee, a deep burgundy in colour. Not quite red, not quite the shade of red wine.
The cut and structure would reflect the quiet authority she carried herself with, without looking too formal.
Oh, good. Seemed like you had something on your mind.
