THEME:
The picture you used for this post. It looks like you are a pilot, but also fancy. Looks sort of "steampunk"...

She adjusted the goggles on her face to keep the wind from damaging her vision. Everyday spent on the Flow brought her joy, but this was especially thrilling. Today, her grin spread wide, eyes shining with adventure, the sun blinding on a
cloudless horizon. She gripped the shipped wheel with gloved hands and twisted hard to the right. The mountains were coming into view. The propellers overhead made their distinctive whoop whoop whoop, a sound she had come to love. This was her 3rd yearly cycle in the flying machine she had lovingly named Grimulus. Grimulus had gotten her through some hard times and even brought her to unexpected fortunes. Today, oh the sweet thrill of the hunt was coursing through her veins as she guided Grimulus through the floating Island City of Vells. Vells was ancient, but still active. One of the few places left that housed people. The world had become wild and not in a safe way for human beings. Mara slowed the engine with a rusty lever. The cry of metal grinding followed by a putter, from the engine brought Grimulus slowly into port at the City of Vells, central marketplace. It was a high profile landing, but she wasn’t trying to be covert, here. She had nothing to hide about her intentions in Vells. Besides, of all the places she’d been, Vells had proven itself as one of the safest. She locked the wheel in place and pulled several more levers while Grimulus creaked under her commands. The flying machine was a bucket, but it was hers and she knew every bolt, had hand repaired each malfunction that came up and had the distinctive smell of oil, soaked into her terracotta colored, leather bodice. Creamy lace billowed out from under the leather edges of her skirt as she made her way to the landing. Hard captain's boots with a sturdy heel and golden buckles rapped against the grating of the ramp. She adjusted her hat and lifted the goggles to its brim. No need for goggles on the ground.
Mara was in good shape, the envy of men who wished she would be theirs. She would never settle, the adventure of soaring the Flow was her mate. Her life and ties to other people would make that kind of adventure impossible. She traded her flying gloves for some finger-less leather ones that she liked to wear in the market, plus, they had brass knuckle disks riveted into them in case she has to get into a fight. She also slung her sword over her shoulder and a leather satchel over the other. Business should be swift, she knew Thurmell would be home, he never went anywhere. Blindness has stopped his adventuring but Mara always brought him tales and wares from her worldly travels. Thurmell was like a father to her. Her parents had been killed when she was 10. Now, 10 years later would they be happy to see the woman she has become? Had she lived up to their expectations of her? Probably not, she mused.
The people of Vells wore cottony cloth dresses and simple tunics with sandals on their feet. This sunny sky port was warm all year and some of the best food could be grown here. Mara marveled at the mud huts, so simple, so austere, but so cozy. Thurmell always had some tantalizing fruits for her to eat and sometimes he sent her with a bag full. She hoped he would have some for her this time.
“Thurmall” she called out, her voice like birdsong. She was a girlie girl, that always confused the men. They grossly underestimated her time and time again. Not to mention that she was short, a fact she tried to remedy with the boots. Her petite size attracted some of the more brutish men who would seek to rob her or take advantage of her in any way they could. Boy were they shocked when she happily kicked their asses and skipped away like a pixie.
Thurmall did not reply to Mara’s call. The skin on Mara’s arms and neck lifted. Thurmall always replied to her call. For the past 7 years, this was their greeting, she had become accustomed to it. She cautiously approached the cloth door to his hut. Without announcing herself for second time, she slowly pulled back the fabric and peered inside. The hut was spacious, there were 2 rooms, with a ceiling you could stand up underneath, holes molded into the walls let filtered sunshine dapple the floor between cloth curtains. The interior was nearly empty, a steaming cup of liquid rested on a short table in the center of the room surrounded by cushy pillows. Thurmell usually spent the day there, he mustn’t be too far away, Mara thought. Silently, she drew her sword and crept towards the bedroom, another stretch of fabric concealed the space beyond and there was no wind blowing. The world seemed too still. Blood rushed in Mara’s ears. Her friend never napped during the day and rarely went out, especially when he knew she was coming, like he had on this occasion.
She carefully pulled back the fabric screen. Thurmell was kneeling on the ground at the foot of a low bed with modest coverings. His head rested on folded arms. He appeared to be sleeping, or thinking. Mara glanced around the room, there were no closets or wall coverings to conceal a person who might be hiding, the bed was crafted from the Earth with no space below for any intruders. Her mind was on high alert for this scene was definitely wrong.
“Thurmell?” She whispered.
The old man’s hearing was top notch since the loss of his sight, so he should have heard her. He made no indication that he had.
“Thurmell?” She questioned again, lowering her sword. She placed a hand on his shoulder. It was icy cold. She instantly recoiled and drew the sword again, backtracking towards the front door. Thurmell was dead. He had no wounds which led her to only one conclusion. He'd been poisoned. Mara poured the remainder of the mug into a vial from her satchel and exited the house as quickly as she could. Someone surely saw her go into the house. Was she being watched even now? Did they know where she was headed? Thurmell had important information for her. He had warned her. Why didn’t she listen? Damn her stubbornness she scolded herself, and how her friend was dead.
She wasted no time getting back onto Grimulus and firing him up for flight. Back on the Flow she would put him on autopilot and run the liquid through some tests. She had to know for sure if Thurmell had been poisoned. That would tell her a lot. This adventure just got dangerous. Would her prize be worth the risk? She hadn’t realized others knew about the artifact, but of course, someone would have heard the legends. She lifted up her bodice to reveal a chocolate colored birthmark on her hip. It was shaped like a spiral with a line through its center. She had never understood what it meant, which was why this particular adventure had gotten her attention. Mara stalked off the main deck to a small room lined with glass vials, equipment and a large table covered with paperwork and too many projects being worked all at once. She rooted through the pages until she found the one she was looking for. It was badly worn, paper so soft it felt like fabric. The folds were ripped in places, the symbol in the corner, a spiral with a line through its center teased her again. She had puzzled over this before. But now that Thurmell was dead, she had better figure it out and fast. If someone was following her because of the connection to this paper and her tattoo, she might end up dead too. She read the words again, just as mysterious as they were the first time she laid on them when Thurmell had put in her had a month ago.

Slipstream the Flow
Forgotten to time
Forever you go
Unbound and unwind
Curses you know
Now out of time
Become one, melt the stone
Or never you mind

What the hell! Someone was willing to kill her over this? What was she supposed to do. Clearly the message was meant for her, otherwise why would it have that strange symbol on it just like the mark on her hip?
Fireworks sounded in the distance. She ran to the helm, heart pounding.
“Shit, already.”
A ship twice her size and surely faster than hers was gaining speed in the Flow about 40 knots behind her current position.
“Here we go,” she told herself. Steeling herself to the hunt and the race, she grabbed the wheel and turned hard, steering the ship deeper into the Flow, the wind engulfed her, and sucked her in. She turned off the propeller and pulled the lever to release the sky sails. Being small has its advantages. If they wanted her, they would have to catch her. Mara grinned wide, lowered her goggles and leaned into the wind, letting it pull Grimulus through like a slingshot.
“Come on boys, let’s play."