Starting Over

Red Thread Fate

Red Thread Fate

Active Member
Saturday, August 1st, 10 AM

"Don't forget to stay with your buddy when we get there, class!"

Today would be her last class trip with the kids from Adams Brook Library. She had announced some time ago. Half the students were still begging her not to go. The rest were either accepting or bitter. But they were growing up. They weren't her first class and they probably wouldn't be her last, either. When she was their age, she hadn't had a teacher. She'd had a sixth grade education, lot of books, four siblings, and a lot of time on her hands.

She wasn't qualified to be a teacher. Not then, and not now. That thought popped into her mind multiple times, sometimes several in a day. But she was all they had. Usually wherever she went, she was the only one who tried. She was more of a mother to some of them. Some from here, too.

"Are we still doing graduation?" A little girl asked, tugging on her coat. The oversized coat she had taken from a theater one winter. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Now that almost brought back memories. Almost. She hadn't thought about chocolate in years. It was good, right? Then again, everything seems amazing to a little kid.

"Yes! And something very special. I'm going to pick the next teacher."

There was a commotion, but she shushed them and said that she would explain later. She was always afraid that when she left, her makeshift class would forget what she had taught them. So she always picked one child to be the next teacher before leaving them. It was more symbolic than anything, and she wasn't sure if it did any good. But it made her feel better, and them too.

The group walked in formation, acting as though they were a walking school bus. She even had them follow road rules and two of the kids acted as turn signals. They loved it. Like being in a marching band almost. They were getting too old for playacting like that, but the practical purpose was to keep everyone together.

"Where are we going again?"

"Someplace very special. I heard that there would be a festival going on in Smithfield. That's why I wanted you all to wear your grown up clothes. I think they are even talking about renaming the town. Now, does everybody have something to trade?"

She stopped at a stop sign and turned back to see most of them holding up some personal prized posession. A few of them looked down or shook their heads. She made mental note to slip them something later so they wouldn't be left out. The economy didn't work the way it used to, but there still was one, and it was always flowing wherever there were people. Bottle caps, photographs, books, batteries, metal pieces, plastic toys, glass, cloth, anything desirable had a pretty much settled-on value, varying only depending on what each community produced and what it needed. But here lately trade had been slower. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe some other reason kept people from wanting to part with things like normal. Maybe it was just the time. People were feeling nostalgic. That always made prices rise.

"Pop quiz!"

"AAAAWWW!!!"

"Not to worry. No grade for this one, just a bit of trivia. Who knows why there is a festival today?"

Silence.

"Is it somebody's birfday?"

"You're close. Not a birthday, though. An anniversary. What happened on this day ten years ago?"

Realization dawned immediately on some faces, while for the younger ones the answer had to be whispered to them from across the imaginary aisle. But nobody said it.

She pulled over. They practiced this so much that they all followed her lead, then looked forward expectantly.

"Listen. This is a time to celebrate, not to mourn. We faced amazing odds and we survived. Ten years is a long time. Your parents, your loved ones, they would be proud of you for staying strong. For learning and bettering yourselves when you could be acting a fool and getting into trouble or getting hurt. It's sad what happened. A horrible tragedy. But we are here now. We survived. Ten years. It's time we grew up now. Found our place in the world. Make it what it needs to be. And that's really something to celebrate. Right?"

Still silence, but slowly the kids came around. A couple of them even clapped. Then they all were. She smiled. This was a good group. She would miss them.

But there was one in the back who had started bawling.

"What's wrong, Buttercup?" That wasn't a diss, that was actually the girl's name. She was prepared with a speech on how the little ones should be even prouder than anyone until she heard the reason.

"There's a rock in my shoe!"

Ok, things like that, she wouldn't miss as much.

~~~

Shadow enjoyed a good party. From a distance. He didn't really trust anything. Life and old movies had taught him that when things were peaceful, something bad was about to happen. He had to keep a watchful eye, like the hero that he was. He was stealth. He was shadow. He was the avenger no one saw coming. He was...

Falling. He was falling off the roof. Some quick mid air maneuvering and he broke his fall with a scrawny tree and managed not to break anything. Ok, maybe a rib, but he couldn't be sure. Definitely some bruises. Ow.

Ok, no time for that. He ignored all the people staring at him like he was some kind of a maniac. They wouldn't understand the plight of a superhero ninja. He took a deep breath. Ow. Yeah, maybe a rib. He had to be more careful of his footing next time. Niw where was he? Oh yes.

Patrolling the city. Keeping his hawk eyes sharp for danger. It may take any form! Nothing and no one was safe! Didn't it seem like a festival would be the perfect opportunity for some dastardly villain with a bald head, handlebar mustache, and half his teeth missing to plot something nefarious? Like maybe THAT man there! He looked suspicious! He was even wearing all black. And looking straight at him, too! Was that a challenge? Had he found his arch nemesis at last?

No. That was a mirror. Dang it! Foiled again! Although, oddly poetic. Perhaps he was his own worst enemy. Wasn't everyone? Maybe he was off his game because he doubted himself too much. Wait! What if HE was the villain? No, impossible. Not The Great Shadow Ninja! Now, what do you do when you fall off a roof? You get right back up again! Like a fiddler. Or a cat. Or a cow. Wait, no, that couldn't be right...
 
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Melia looked at the crowds of people in the square. What was so interesting about some stalls? She didn't remember ever being to a celebration like this, and, to be honest, she didn't care. Still, she supposed it wouldn't kill her to take a look. She wandered around, looking at the nick-nacks and trinkets people were offering, and swiping a couple of small things as she passed.
 
Sasomi speed through the streets on Zaxxie, whipping past vendors and customers alike. She grinned like a mad man, revving her engine as she recklessly drove close to a group of kids being led by some bookish looking woman. With someone like that leading them, Sasomi guesses they probably had a pretty boring time.

"Eat my dust tikes!" She shouted at the kids, smiling gleefully. It was a shame they were letting someone else boss them around. They were free, and should be living life to the fullest! But she was busy, and couldn't be bothered to try and help some random kids let loose. So she continued her joyride.

Eventually, Sas decided to park Zaxxie near the outskirts of town, making sure to secure the bike so that no one would kidnap her. Once she was satisfied, she climbed up a building to start doing some freestyle parkour. It was always more fun to run around on top of buildings when there were people to mess with below you. And besides, maybe she could find something cool to add to her collection. She had wanted to get a leather jacket, but couldn't find one that spoke to her.
 
Smithfield wasn't exactly a luxurious place in any regards, but it had a sense of charming humility to it. Small, quaint, and maintained to the best of its citizen's abilities. Over the last few months, this place had been working hard to transform itself into a more welcoming, trade-friendly establishment, and what better way to get word around than to host a festival, and let everyone know about it. Now, that day had arrived. Some of the teens and young adults could remember what a festival used to be in the old world. Calling Smithfield's community event a 'festival' was giving a little too much credit. At best, it was a glorified trading event, complete with a non-hostile environment. Or so they say. This, while a disappointment to those who came far and wide to take part in a hay ride or bobbing for apples, was exactly what one girl needed.

Evelyn walked briskly through the bustling crowd of people who'd come from all around to attend this festival. On her back sat a large hiking bag, full to the brim, bulging, at risk of overflowing with various collectibles, tools, and other random junk she could trade. Her gaze tore through the crowd, glaring straight at a young kid standing behind a crudely-built booth, labeled 'Tim's Awesome Sales' with what seemed like unintelligible scribbles beneath it. He'd seen her approaching just moments ago, and appeared fairly nervous about her adamant approach. She couldn't blame him. Her face was set into a grimace, giving her a fierce, intimidating, unfriendly look. This was thanks to her bag of goods, which she'd just hauled through nine miles of wild, tangled forest to get here.

Smithfield wasn't a place she'd seen in quite a long time. About six years, to be exact. She traveled around so often, visited so many places, she often forgot this place and its people even existed. Yet here she was now, just like last time, hauling ass to trade her profit. Only difference this time was that her brother wasn't with her. He'd always been the social one of the two of them, and made great impressions on every settlement they visited. Eve... not so much. She preferred to keep her head down, and make as little chit chat as possible. This attitude had only strengthened after Earnest died. She only ever talked to who she needed to, and carried on her way.

"Food, weapons, notebooks, shoes... and a water bottle, if you have one." She demanded, slinging the bag off her back, hefting it up with a mighty grunt, before letting it slam down on the table. The force of this burst the latch holding down the top flap, leading to many of the top items spilling out over the surface of the booth. The boy, Tim presumably, gulped, staring at her pack with round eyes. Timidly, he lifted the flap a bit to peek in at its contents. After a few moments, he stuck his hand in to pull out some items and see what they hid beneath. After another few moments, he bit his lip, and returned his deer-in-headlights look to his customer. "Er... I can't trade any of these..." He said.
Evelyn blinked. "Sorry?"
"This is uh... just junk."
She stared down at him for several seconds, processing this. "Uh... yeah. That's... what I trade."
"I can't trade for any of it, I'm uh... sorry..." Tim bit the inside of his cheek, wringing his hands together. "None of it's valuable enough for any of my stock..."
"Now hold on." Eve snapped, reaching her hand into the bag to pull out a dusty old piece of gray plastic. "Know what this is?"
"Um..."
"It's a Nintendo 64. These things are hella valuable." She informed him, setting it down. "You could play games on it and-"
"I've got no use for it. I-I'm sorry, but... you'll need to trade somewhere else." Tim interrupted, appearing increasingly anxious as the conversation continued. "Why not? Everyone else buys this sort of stuff from me." Evelyn huffed, getting as frustrated as Tim was nervous. "I deal more with... food. I think there's another sta-."
"Then how about taking my junk to melt it down? I got plenty of metal in here..." She began rummaging through the bag as Tim wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging himself. "Um... we don't... do that..."
"Oh my GOD!" Eve yelled in frustration, turning several heads her way. This didn't go unnoticed by her, and she was quick to pull her hood more so over her face, though her hands were quivering. "I need to sell this junk." She hissed at the boy. "How else do you think I make a living?"
"...I-I..." Tim gulped, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. "L-look, there's another town-"
"Redberry is another day's hike from here!" Evelyn interjected. "I've been carrying this thing around for days. I need to trade my junk. Now."
"I... I c-cant..." Tim replied. "Could you, er... go? I have another customer..."

Evelyn glanced behind her to see a young black boy, probably around her age, maybe younger, standing there with his hands in his pockets, waiting patiently for her to leave. "Fine." Eve muttered, scooping up the scattered items and stuffing them back into the bag. "Fine." She repeated, snapping the flap shut and hefting the bag back over her shoulders. "Fine. Fine. Fine. Your stand sucks anyway." She growled at Tim, glaring daggers before trudging away, nearly tipping over from the weight of the bag as she went. A glance behind her to his stall showed her that, beneath 'Tim's Awesome Sales', the aforementioned scribbled subtext spelled out 'Fruits and Veggies!'. She should have paid more attention to the subtext.
Truth be told, she felt a little bad for being so rude to him, but it was just... infuriating! Her food supplies were at a bare minimum, she needed new shoes desperately, and she was still stuck with a mountain of apparently useless, invaluable junk strapped to her back. Eve made her way out of the town square, where the majority of this festival was taking place. She needed a break, and to be around less people. She was starting to get a little overwhelmed in the crowd. Tim had started to mention something about another stall earlier, so she'd have to check it out. Once things died down a bit, of course. No way was she getting packed in that sardine fest again. So, she slung her bag off, setting it next to a run down building, and leaned against it, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, before sliding down the wall into a seated position.

Smithfield had definitely changed from what she remembered of it. It used to be so much smaller. Less people. Less trade. It made for a good pit stop on the way to Redberry, which was a much larger settlement, though its people were far less accommodating. On Eve's hip sat a satchel, where she kept the most treasured of her belongings. She opened it as she sat, pulling out a pack of pencils, most of which were broken or just small nubs. Beneath that, she pulled out a small drawing pad. When she was bored, or needed to pass the time, she would often take to drawing. She'd become a talented artist over the years, and took a liking to drawing her surroundings. Half the book was already used, so she flipped through drawings of deer, trees, birds, and a cabin to the next blank page. Once there, she looked up at the crowd of people, trying to pick out one to draw, her eye catching onto a pretty girl with blue hair. That was when she heard it. The rev of an engine. Tilting her head, her gaze averted to the outskirts of the festival, where she saw a young woman with autumn hair and a pair of goggles on her head leading a collective of young kids to the festival. They seemed organized. Honestly, she was a little surprised to see children so young. It had been such a long time since she'd seen a little kid, let alone an entire group of them. She thought about drawing them, until the engine rev sounded again, and another young woman appeared, speeding toward the festival on a motorcycle, crimson hair whipping out behind her. She cut awfully close to the group of kids, shouting something at them that Eve couldn't quite hear. She then proceeded to rip through a portion of the festival's crowd. Fortunately, nobody got hit. This character was most certainly a daredevil. Probably an evil jerk too, from the looks of it. Perfect to draw.
She'd nearly begun working on a drawing of the motorcycle girl, who'd by now disappeared from sight, when a shadow suddenly covered her notebook in the shape of a human. Frowning, she turned her head upward, where she presumed the shadow to be, to find a tall figure blocking the sun, standing on the edge of the roof. He was just sort of... standing there- before he was suddenly falling, and barely managed to catch himself on a thin tree that seemed barely able to hold his weight. Eve couldn't help but let out a giggle, covering her mouth with a sleeve as several dying leaves rained down on her from the tree he'd just violated. The boy was wearing a flowery do-rag, with a thick scarf hiding much of his lower face and neck, and were those two swords slung over his back?

There were just far too many interesting people to draw here today.
 
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((ok that was so long but it was actually really good))

Her eyes landed on a sign that read 'Tim's Awesome Sales', and she snorted. What kind of a half-witted guy owned that stall? Well, someone called Tim, presumably, but that was beside the point. There was a girl with an overflowing bag arguing with the person manning the stall, so she seized the opportunity to steal some of his wares. Listening to what the girl was saying, she decided to humour herself and take the exact items she was trying to buy. Her satchel was now stuffed with the following: some bread and cheese, a couple daggers, some blank books, a pair of large boots and a couple of empty hip flasks. Then she turned and continued looking around, tossing some breadcrumbs at a weedy-looking raven, and going about her day as usual.
 
Brooke Tory, or Miss Story as the kids called her, instinctively tensed when she heard the noise. She could do nothing but scowl after the woman speeding past them on her motorcycle, but it gave way to a small smile as she heard the children's collective reactions.

"Was that a real motocycle!"

"Oh my gosh! I wonder where she got it!"

"I want one!"

"I saw that in a book one time!"

"Who is she? She must be rich!"

The downside was that the encounter did, indeed, kick up a lot of dust, but after the kids were done coughing they didn't seem to mind it and kept on with their excited chattering all the way to town. She didn't scold them as she wanted them to have fun today. "Just remember to stay together. And be nice to strangers. We want to make a good impression for the town, don't we?"

"Yes MissTory."

It used to be 'Don't talk to strangers,' but that didn't fly in this new world. Without making friends, few survived, and it was usually worth the risk. Besides, none of her kids were very small. She had one seven year old, Buttercup, the one who acted the most like a baby, but even she knew how to defend herself. This group mostly ranged from nine to thirteen. The youngest child Brooke had ever seen since the event was a four year old, the child of two survivors, effectively the first of a new generation. That was the town she had been to before Adam's Brook, and boy was that whole village ever protective of him! Still they were impressed when she managed to teach him to read, a skill some if them didn't even have.

She awoke from her brief reverie when she realized the kids were still waiting for her go-ahead. "Alright. Meet back at the big red house for lunch at noon. We need to be back home three fingers before sunset, so we'll be leaving at what time, class?"

They did some quick figuring, and two raised their hands at the same time.

"Three o'clock!" Said one.

"Three thirty if we hurry," said another.

"Let's make it three to be safe. You won't want to walk too fast with your belly full of carnival food and your backpack full of treasures." She smiled and dismissed them. "Now go on, git. Have fun and be careful, and remember to whistle if you need me."

~~~

Michael - that is - Shadow couldn't help but hear the young lady laughing at him. He turned and located the souce of the sound. "Well you might laugh, humble citizen! For even a hero makes mistakes! But I doubt you would laugh if there were any real danger." He took a theatrical bow. "Cowabunga to you madam. I go by The Shadow. Protector of the innocent, defender of the week. Or sometimes the month, depending on how receptive the populace is to my heroism. Beware keeping too long in one place, for change is inevitable and the floor is always lava!" He struck a rather comical pose, like a ninja in some old chinese B movie.

"Now, did I overhear you saying that you had a..." He came closer and whispered, "...Nintendo 64?"
 
Okay, scratch interesting. This guy was one traumatic event away from clinically insane. But... he was entertaining. He labelled himself as a hero, which earned another giggle from Evelyn, still covering her mouth with her sleeve. This guy read too many old world comics or something. He was very... theatrical. Expressive. And he spoke in a loud and proud tone, introducing himself as 'The Shadow'. Not a name she'd have personally thought the hero of a story would go by. The one thing he said that made sense was the whole 'beware keeping too long in one place', which was somewhat of a philosophy Eve had grown to live by.
Finally, however, he brought up her wares. He expressed an interest in her old Nintendo 64 she'd found back near the outskirts of Brightheart, which was yet another settlement located close to here. Initially, Eve gave this guy a funny look, pulling her knees closer to her chest to hide her sketchbook. However, the moment he brought up her junk, she uncoiled, cocking her head to the side. First off, had he been watching her? She'd been in a crowded area trying to trade the console as junk for something useful. How did he- actually, it didn't really matter. She didn't much care about how he knew. Or how he supposedly heard her. Maybe he just wasn't on the roof of buildings the whole time.

"Depends." She replied, giving him a look-over, taking more of his... unique... attire. It was an amalgamation of different types of clothing, all black in color to make some kind of weird costume. He called himself a superhero, but he seemed more like some anime ninja from a show she caught a glimpse of as a child. Of course, her mother had punished her for trying to watch it, as it was a 'demonic, brain-washing program', but that was beside the point.
"What are you willing to trade for it?"
 
@catradora (Since it's @ her character)

Sasomi grinned as she leaped from rooftop to rooftop, whooping and hollering as she did so. Eventually, she parkored her way back to the main festival area. She laughed as she snuck around above everyone's heads.

"Man, nothing like a festival. Too bad everyone's so boring looking-" Sasomi stopped herself as she spotted an interesting looking girl or woman. She wasn't great at telling ages. But the thing that interested her most was her colored hair. It was vibrant, which means she dyed it recently. Sasomi had wanted to get her hand on hair dye for a while, but sadly that was after most of the hair salons and other places were sacked. This girl knew where to get some. So Sasomi waited until the girl went off into a side alley to make her appearance.

"Hey," She said nonchalantly to the girl as she hung upside down from the side of a building. The feeling of the blood rushing to her head was exhilarating. She smirked, to be honest, this girl looked to be someone she wouldn't mind hanging around. She had an air around her Sasomi liked. It had been ages since she had spent time around someone who she didn't utterly despise. Everyone was always so focused on surviving, while Sasomi just wanted to live.
 
She stuck a hand in her pocket and strolled down the street. A bag slung over her shoulder. It had been a very long 10 years of being alone and she was desperate for change, but she wouldn't let her demeanor show her desperation. She began to feel anxious. She hadn't been around a lot of people in years. She wasn't even sure if she remembered how to talk, but no matter. She pushed herself onward.
 
Melia blocked out the sound of someone yelling and moved into an alley to have a look at her stolen goods, trailed by the raven she had just fed. Suddenly, she heard a voice and noticed someone peering down at her from a rooftop.
"Hello? What do you want?" She replied, sounding annoyed. She scowled in response to the girl's smirk and ruffled the raven's feathers. Who was this girl, and what was she doing talking to her? She always tried to look as uninviting as possible, so what could possibly make her want to talk? Maybe she was trying to steal from her. Yes, that made sense. She stuffed everything back into her bags and put them back on, being extra careful to keep them in such a position that she would know if anyone tried to touch them.
 
The old Ford rumbled to a stop. Roman winced as he placed the truck in park and hopped out. If he didn’t get new parts soon, this would be another dead vehicle. Hoping to trade for parts by selling his creations at the Smithfield festival, the blonde teen went to the bed where he produced a rucksack that had seen better days. It was a mix-match of patterns and patches that Remy had so kindly stitched together for him. Turning to his sister, a bright and hopeful grin on his lips, the boy said: “Remember what to look for?”

“Yes, Roman.” His younger sister rolled her eyes, husky voice holding a hit of fondness there. He just flashed her another grin before melting into the crowd.

Smithfield was buzzing with activity. It had been several years since he’d been here with Remy. But he was glad to see it had grown in size. With the littles becoming young adults, there was an uptick in the trade industry. At least, that is what he assumed as blue eyes roamed over all the various stalls and brightly colored people. Some with wild hair. Some with wild clothes. A fond smile tugged at the teens lips. This, this was a sense of community. Something Roman admired.

The air was filled with a cacophony of noises. A woman’s shout, an engine’s roar and the giggles and shrieks of the young. Roman soaked it all in as he navigated his way to potential stalls. He wasn’t sure who would be in the market for buying metal scraps or trinkets to help in your daily life, but the blonde youth had in mind to go through every single stall if he had to.

First up was a green army tent with a girl inside. She looked to be about ten, tan skin and bright brown eyes. She smiled widely at him, introducing herself as Vivvy and welcoming him to Vivvy’s Treasures where she trades in hard to find items. Well, maybe Roman had hit the jackpot right off the bat. Slinging his bag off his shoulder, deft hands produced an array of inventions that had been cobbled together from spare parts.

“Well, I have a can opener right here,” he lays the item on a wooden table. “If you’re not handy with a knife or need a little extra help, this’ll do the trick. And this here, is a sharpener for pencils if you happen to come across any.” He continued to produce more items until the table was nearly full.

“Impressive,” the girl cooed, fingers dancing across an array of items. “What are you looking for?”

“Scrap metal for starters and then car parts, rubber hose, gas if you happen to have any.” That was the biggest struggle for Roman, finding gas to fuel his truck. Hence why he used it so sparingly.

“Well, you may be in luck, I had a recent trade of scrap metal. Some car parts might be in there,” Vivvy responded. “Not sure what they look like, but you’re free to look around. Come back with what you want and we’ll trade.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Roman beamed, dipping his head as he moved further into Vivvy’s tent to sort through her scrap metal pile.
 
She stopped in the middle of the street of the town. It was quite busy and she was begining to get overwhelmed. Maybe she was better off staying alone... she had survived without anyone else for 10 years just fine. Why did she have the urge to find a place of belonging now? She glanced around and quickly went to a quiet alleyway and sat down. She hid her face in her hands. What was she thinking? She had lost all ability to socialize, she wouldn't make it here. She sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. If this was 10 years ago she'd be crying, but she lost being able to cry after her parents died. She crossed her arms over her knees and stared at the opposite wall of the alleyway. What was she going to do? Would she even learn how to live this life?
 
Shadow thought for a moment. "Admittedly, I do not have much to trade. I have some food to spare. A few weapons that I do not use. And there is my standard offer of protection." He looked at her huge and very full bag. "What you might need more is someone to help bear your burdens. You seem to be carrying around an awful lot of baggage." He said so unironically, even though it could be taken as an insult. "But there is something else I must take care of first. Will you wait here a moment while..."

It was then that he saw her sketchbook. His eyes went wide, and hos tone became almost reverent. "Are you... an artist, madam? Nevermind the hunk of plastic and wires. How much would you ask for one of your works of art? I would even trade you my most prized posession for it. The very book I live by." He reached into his bag and pulled out a magazine covered in plastic. Hard to say how old it was, but it was a batman comic, and judging by the art style it was one of the older ones. He actually bowed as he presented it to her. "A woman of your talent is rare to find in these dark times." All this he said without even looking at her artwork. It could be meaningless scribbles or stick figures for all he knew. He looked up and met her eyes earnestly. "And if that does not interest you, I know of a place where you could find an endless supply of paper."

~~~

( @KeekeeI )

Brooke was enjoying herself, a little bit. Mostly she was tensely watching over her charges, but she also took some time for herself. The relaxed smiles and excitement on most of the faces she passed made her feel better than she had in a long time. This felt... hopeful... almost normal. She wandered from stall to tent, looking around. She didn't really need anything, but she always kept an eye out for old books. She was a little disappointed to not find any that she hadn't already read, but she bought a couple of copies just the same. In between stalls, something caught her eye. A girl on the ground down an alley looking on the verge of tears. At first she thought it might be one of the students, but she didn't look familiar. Most people wouldn't have noticed, or would have walked on by, but Brooke was always looking out for people who needed help.

"Excuse me... I know we don't know each other, but noticed you sitting there, and... you look a little upset." Leaning against the wall she offered a hand to help the girl up. "I'm Book... I mean Brooke." She smiled. "Kids like to call me Book sometimes. Anyway, as happy as everyone seems to be around here, I hate to see somebody not enjoying themselves. Is there anything I can do to help? Even if I can't, I happen to have a working pair of ears and some time on my hands, if you'd like someone to talk to." She shrugged. Sometimes her upbeat attitude and unusual clothes turned people off, but she really only acted and dressed that way because it got people's attention. "I heard someone say they'll be putting on a parade here at noon. You'll miss it sitting here in the dark."
 
She stared at the lady's hand. She knew she could trust her but it was very hard for her to trust people now. Anyone she met only helped her of they got something out of it. She was willing to listen to her without judgment. She opened her mouth to speak but then she realized she had only spoke trader talk for a long time. The last time she saw a parade was when she was 7... that was a year before her parents died from the sickness. Now she was 18 and acting so childish and fearful. "Rowan" was all she managed to get out.
 
Evelyn must have opened her mouth at least four times to reply to the guy, but he just kept on going, changing topics faster than a rabbit being born. Then, he took an interest in her artistic pieces. A very strong interest. Asking to purchase a work of hers with his most valuable possession- a 1962 comic issue of Batman; 'Batman Becomes Bat-Baby!'. Turns out she was right about the comic-obsession observation contemplation situation. She was about to tell him that her work wasn't for sale, when he changed topics. Again.

This time, he brought to her attention something very important. A place she could get an endless supply of paper. She knew endless was just an exaggeration, but it meant a lot. And a lot of paper was what she wanted. Well, among other things... but the tempting prosper of new, fresh, blank paper was practically making her drool. "Yes. That. Please." She replied, springing to her feet, momentarily forgetting her more closed-in nature for now. "Take me there."
 
"Where did you get the hair dye. You have no idea how rare it is to see someone with vibrant colored hair." Sasomi smirked as she flipped down and landed, "So tell me, who's your supplier?" This girl was way too high strung. She needed to loosen up. It felt like Sasomi was always finding people who were under more stress than a rubber band.

Sasomi put her hands in her pockets as she circled around the girl, waiting for an answer. To be honest, she was getting bored with her look. Wanted to spice things up. Hence the search for hair dye and a killer leather jacket.

"Oh, and you wouldn't know where to find a leather jacket?" She added, grinning.
 
"There's probably a stall near here that has a jacket. And I use these for my hair," she rummaged through her bag for a minute or so, keeping it away from Sasomi, before pulling out a jar of what looked like marble-sized bathbombs. "You're meant to use them for magic disappearing acts, where you throw them on the ground and they release all this blue powder, but they work pretty well as hair dye if you dissolve them in a bit of water. There's probably a stall that sells these, too." These powder-balls were one of the many things Melia had stolen over the span of her life, and they had definitely been some of the most useful. One thing she wouldn't tell this girl, though, was how easily they could stain your skin. That was actually how she discovered their use as hair dye; she saw how pigmented it was on skin and decided to mix the powder with water and see what she could do.
 
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