Thread: Going Organic (Hisako & DeviantAngel)

This is what she meant by 'go to the organic market'? Claire was feeling out of place, especially since someone else wasn't doing her shopping. The act of buying your own food wasn't alien to her. Frequently her mother dragged her along and made her shop with either herself, the help, or both in the odd circumstance that they needed a lot of wholesale goods. This was new, and if she was being honest with herself, it was long overdue. Being twenty four meant being more independent, and despite having the money from her own stocks and position at her company independent could mean hiring someone to do these things, it also mean being able to do things on her own without help. Her mother made sure she didn't raise a total socially-inept, sociopathic degenerate like the others who she grew up with and went to private school with up until her immersion into public high school. She had heard of these markets before, but she only had imagined what they looked like from movies, never did she dream that she would be there herself one day. She didn't see the point of organic food anyways, seemed like all food was processed and genetically modified throughout the centuries of human existence, how were these somehow untouched by that process? Still, she had a shopping list--which, speaking of Claire looked down at her right hand which gripped medium sized reusable bags made out of some kind of plastic-nylon combination. All of them were primarily flat, or flattened, and were gripped with handles bunched together taut in that hand. From her elbow she had a small purse, it was bigger than a clutch bag but smaller than your average purse that most women seemed to carry their entire life in. Unlike most of her purses, this one was made out of a woven fabric, its seams and pockets were quad-stitched for extra sturdiness and somehow served an aesthetic style that must have been popular either now or previously. Either way, the style of the purse didn't matter as her mother instructed her not to bring either a leather or fur purse. She was actually warned several times not to wear fur, but her mother of course couldn't control everything aspect of her attire and accessories. She reached over with her left hand and deftly opened the purse, rifling through it single-handedly in the literal sense. A flurry for black nail-polished hands later and she quickly found the thin white paper hidden amongst her few belongings and pinched it between her index and center finger as she pulled it out, closing the purse with its magnetic clasp with her thumb and ring finger while her pinky stuck out. She brought the list up to her face, and paused in the center of an aisle of the market. Claire stuck out like a sore thumb at the market, while most people were wearing natural colors and the one tye-dye shirted man--all of whom wearing summer clothes--she stood alone wearing a fur bolero with sleeves that nearly ate her hands up and a hood that could cover her torso alone if it detached. The white fur was created to look like fox, but like most products from her family it was entirely synthetic and cruelty-free despite its convincing texture, appearance, and tactile properties. She was sure that the anthros in the market would have murdered her if she was wearing real fur, something she only did as a child a few times. Underneath the bolero was a black tank top that cropped at the middle, revealing a large amount of midriff. The tank top was made of some kind of soft material, like silk, its high thread count reflecting the light rather than absorbing it. Underneath the shirt was a black bra that was concealed through camouflage of matching color and concealing her perky double D cup breasts. Her exposed athletic torso lead the eye down to her black leggings, which had a beltloop top to hold her white belt which was there for aesthetics only. The leggings blended smoothly into the ankle-high heels she was wearing that were strapped to her feet as if she were concealing them, but they weren't restricting bloodflow or constricting skin. At the top of this ensemble was hours of Claire spending time in front of a vanity while doing her makeup and brushing her hair. Claire's hair had been recently dyed to take on a red tone, as her naturally blonde-pink hair color was becoming unnerving for most, and was benched until this carmine red wore out. Her long straight hair was mostly pulled back into a high ponytail, the pulled back hair resting at the small of her back. Her bangs were the same as ever, swept from the left side of her face and coming around to frame the right side of her face, some styles die hard apparently. With black eyeliner and winged tips on her eyes she beautifully made her eyes pop despite her eyes being monolid. Her cheeks weren't blushing, something that usually occurred when she was aroused, but today she had no need for foundation to cover this and her flat, angular features were mostly just accented rather than hidden. Her makeup had countoured her cheeks to make her look like she had more pronounced cheek bones, and her lips had a natural shade of pink that was glossy and reflected light like a polished gem or metal. Her pink irises scanned over the list, checking every item as she memorized them for the fourth time that day. She wished her mother would use the phone, but since it was a technology she hadn't become popular with until Claire had joined public school she resigned to bothering with it. Hilariously enough she was likely the only woman on earth who had a car phone. Claire looked from the list out into the market and she scanned the area, Well, might as well see what all the hype is. she groaned aloud. She shifted the paper from between her fingers to in the grasp of her left hand as she walked down the aisles, her heels clicking among the clamor of the bustling crowd. The organic market was a flea market years ago, but when that died out the farmers took over and the flea market took the small area they used to occupy as the demand for farm-fresh food grew. Claire wiggled between people, checking the prices of vegetables, tempted to just buy the first and most delicious ones she saw. Claire was nearing the end of the fruits and vegetables without realizing it. Soon she was in the grains and found herself learning that whole wheat wasn't good enough for people anymore. There were so many different grain bread she had to roll her eyes more than once. She saw the crowd beginning to gather over by the dairy, and this piqued her interest. What could be going on by dairy that was so fascinating? She pushed her way through the crowd, surprising most as she 'gently' pushed people aside, barely using her abilities to coerce people into believing that they wanted her to go through, her magic barely visible as it spread through touch. She finally got to the front of the crowd and looked around to the sides, noticing that people were looking in front of her. Claire shifted her head and gaze and her mouth dropped. She pressed her left hand to her mouth, hiding it behind a veil of black nail polish and white fingers as she stared at the most gorgeous creature she had ever seen. Her blush was flooding to her face, and she snapped out of her wonderment as she focused to keep her horns in her skull.