Last night, Mi'er and Linda, along with their companions, left the bar to join the crowd on Pilgrims' Street to watch the race between the two factions.
Leaning on the railing by the high bridge, Mi'er brushed the hair aside from her ears with her hand, letting the cool breeze pass over her neck, bringing a refreshing sensation; she was flipping through her personal terminal while glancing at the crowd gathering on the bridge.
After half an hour of boring wait, a slightly noisy engine sound approached from a distance, prompting many heads to lift.
Seventeen silver hover cars swiftly passed overhead, their tails emitting a pale blue flame, the bodies smooth with silver tracery patterns revealing themselves as they moved—quite beautiful.
