This logfile is imported from aitelogs2 and may contain errors or wrong timestamps.
#FreedomFalls – January 17, 2016
A small woman with a bottle-brush ponytail crouches next to the wall, balancing on the balls of her feet, fidgeting briefly with a rectangular container. With a pop, the top comes off the packet containing her latest meal. It looks lumpy. A bit like rice pudding, really, in a sad shade of gray. Some sort of emergency field ration, judging by the markings. This particular variety tastes like
depression in a plastic carton, but it’s still preferable to starvation. Usually. The girl scoops out a gray blob with her spoon, stuffing it into her mouth and working it about a bit, brow furrowed in apparent concentration. She wipes her mouth with the back of a pale, slightly dirty hand, and takes another glance about—left, right, rooftops… then back to the doors of “Miner’s R
espite” across the way. Arielle eats another absentminded scoop of… food… while watching the activity on the street, her gaze bounding from point to point, and never staying in one spot for more than a couple seconds.
Adam walks down the street, both hands carrying bags of shopping. He glances toward a nearby bench and, tempted by the opportunity to sit down, heads towards it. He drops down onto it and sets his bags down besides him. He leans back, running a hand through his hair with a weary sigh.
Ah, a shopper with his hands full. Arielle perks up, rocking forward and up until she’s standing. Her utter lack of height makes it a bit difficult to see what’s in the bags. Hmm. The current owner’s a bit scary, though. Still eating, the girl wanders a bit closer, eyes wide and alert, weight balanced over the balls of her feet, and staying close to the wall. She rocks her weight forw
Adam is a very well built man, though with a rather kindly face. Wearing a short-sleeved shirt, an intricate tattoo emblazons what is visible of his arm. Adam, currently preoccupied by his omni-tool, doesn't notice the stranger approaching. If she were to catch a glimpse of the bags contents, she would find they are mostly groceries.
She finally manages to catch a few corners of labels out the top of the box, and wrinkles her nose a bit. After glancing up and down the street out of habit, Arielle settles for attempting to get the last few bits out of her meal carton. Packaged food—very reliable stuff, even if the taste and texture remind the consumer of a half-digested potato. Still… maybe there’s something bette
r, and there is a lot of open space. Arielle rubs her head with one hand, messing up her hair, just a bit. There’s already dirt on her patched-up jumpsuit, her face, and her hands. Carton and spoon still in hand, she edges closer, trying to get a better sense of the food. She’s probably not seen most of it before, especially if it’s of the relatively unprocessed (and mostly-natural) v
Adam glances over to the woman, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Good day," he greets with a small smile.
“Hi,” she responds, shrinking back a few inches. After a moment, Arielle furrows her brow a bit, and peers into the bags more obviously. “What’s all this?” Her spoon scrapes against the plastic carton wall, then finds its way into her mouth.
Arielle coughs awkwardly. “I was wondering what that looked like. Are you from here?” In one hand, the girl rubs her spoon handle along the web of small scars along her hands and forearms, crumpling the now-empty carton incessantly with the other. By now, her voice is starting to quaver a little, accompanying a slight increase in the rate-of-carton-crumpling. “What’s it like?” She
wrinkles her brow and nose after she lets that last question out. “I mean, the food. Or—“ The hand with the spoon gestures vaguely ‘around’—“This. Either one.”
Adam tilts his head slightly. He gestures for her to take a seat, shuffling over to give her some space. "I haven't been here long myself," he admits, folding his arms across his broad chest. "The place is decent enough. The food... Is the same as everywhere else I suppose."
“M’okay.” With a shake of the head, she starts pacing back and forth in front of Adam’s bench, her attention refocusing onto some of the other people still out on the road. Each one gets a second or two of study. Crinkle, crinkle—the wrapper’s still going strong. “So-so so you don’t know where anything is either.” Now the girl bobs up and down a bit, rocking back onto her
heels, then forward onto the balls of her feet. “Okay. Where were you walking?” Is she looking for someone? Seems to be glancing around the road more, now.
Adam pauses for a second as his omni-tool beeps. He gives the message a scrutinising look, then quickly gathers his shopping. "Sorry to cut this short, but I need to go," he says hurriedly, giving her an apologetic nod as he dashes.off.
"Oh--bye!" she calls, already pivoting around, searching for any signs of danger. Eventually satisfied that nothing's about to come and get her, Arielle sets her sights on the Respite. Inside... eventually. For now... time to figure out how to get to that roof.