Ineg brushed her fingers across the top of the cream pot. The thick blue substance stuck to her fingers.
She held it up in front of the mirror, holding back her hair with her other hand as she carefully dabbed the cream onto the top of her forehead.
The makeup was a practised art by now. Her fingers moved in the familiar pattern, swiping the cream across her face to form a single block of blue running from her eyebrows to her forehead.
Ineg wiped her fingers clean once she had finished, picking up the yellow eyeliner next to outline the corner of her eyes with the traditional wings of the Flights. Whilst the regulations said you just had to ring your eyes with yellow, Ineg preferred to create two dramatic wings in yellow and orange – her unit’s colours. Even if no one would be able to see it under her googles whilst in flight, she knew it was there.
Next came the lipstick – an orange to match the colour she used on her eyes. Ineg carefully drew round the outside of her lips, filling in the colour with an orange pencil. It wasn’t as bright an orange as she normally would wear, but today was not the day for bright lips. Lips traditionally were the place of happiness, the brighter the colour the happier you were.
Ineg could still remember the crash, the one that had laid her up in hospital for weeks. Her fight flight out was not a happy occasion, not without Yelt there by her side.
Her final pot was a pink one, tiny. It had been Yelt’s colour.
She dapped a small pink line under her eyes. Yelt might not be here now, but Ineg would always remember her.
Always.
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