Rabbit's Foot


eimi_icon.gif squeaks_icon.gif

Scene Title Rabbit's Foot
Synopsis For the second time recently, Eimi gives away her sandwich to someone else that's hungry.
Date March 17, 2018

Phoenix Heights

The lack of breakfast makes for a hungry Squeaks. With her stash used up, she’s taken to the streets early to try to find something. It’s possible that she could go to Caspian’s again, she’s sure a meal could be gained. But it might be a better idea to use that resource as a last resort. In baggy overalls, with the knees worn thin and the legs rolled at the cuffs, a denim jacket two sizes too big, she maneuvers the walkways like a pro.

Mornings during a food shortage are never the easiest to endure. Markets and stalls set for bartering are just getting started, and the early hour means prices are potentially going to be steeper than later when they’re just trying to close out. And the likelihood of getting away with palming an apple or two or some other easily kept food is slim. Morning hours mean people are more watchful of their wares.

So that means Squeaks ought to avoid the marketplace as a general rule. One she’s mostly sticking to. Her route will inevitably take her nearby, and through if she decides to try her luck. But for now she’s checking the occasional refuse bin, looking for still-edible leftovers.

Eimi no longer dumpster-dives for food. At least, not much. But she is still wary of the markets.

Above Squeaks, on the rooftops, Eimi walks along, watching the streets below her. Teleporting when it's time to move from one building to the next. And pausing, cat-like, to look and watch the younger teen, brow furrowing.

A bag is brought out of the bin as Squeaks pulls herself upright. She’s unaware of the watcher above - it’s less of a concern to look up for people than it is to look around for people - and focuses on opening the bag. She whistles, a short and sharp sound that brings a scruffy looking dog from down an alley.

Though the dog’s head is nearly level with her chest, she crouches down and fishes into the bag. A portion of the food that’s inside is offered to the mutt first. The kid watches its reaction, enthusiasm, or lack there of, when it investigates the food. Whatever it is, the interaction is probably unclear from Eimi’s perch, but it must be an okay discovery because the bag is rolled closed and stuffed into a coat pocket.

This is becoming a Thing. Eimi glances from Squeaks, to her satchel, and back, and lets out a breath that might be audible at ground level below.

Not that it'll matter in a moment. She takes a few steps along the uneven roofline and then looks down again, and when she emerges it's from behind a set of bins that Squeaks already checked. There was no person in them, or nearby. Eimi's got her coat pulled around her, hair falling half in her face, but in her hand she has a wax-paper wrapped sandwich that she's holding out to the younger girl, and her other hand is in plain sight, and she only takes one step towards her. "Here," she says. Flat, quiet, disaffected, but not unkindly.

The dog alerts to the sudden appearance behind first, before Eimi has a chance to speak. He crowds against Squeaks in a protective posture, but doesn’t growl or even menace toward the older girl. Initially, he’s ignored. But when spoken to, the kid turns to look over her shoulder.

Eimi is regarded for a long and silent second. The sandwich is spotted only a after she’s decided there’s little immediately threatening. “Jude.” Squeaks’ voice is not loud, and she’s not rough when she pushes the dog and stands. “For what?” That question comes with a head bobbing toward the sandwich, bartering.

"For nothing," Eimi says, tugging at her lower lip. "You're hungry." It's a statement, not a question, and she lets out a long breath, although the sandwich is still held out. A little bit later, silence later, Eimi adds, "And being hungry sucks."

Her gaze goes from the dog, to the younger girl, and back again, and then off somewhere rather than making prolonged eye contact. "Because I have other food and I'm… not hungry. Not right now." She pauses. "Because." Whatever reasoning goes with that last statement is silent. She's going to have to start carrying two sandwiches if this keeps up.

Suspicion is shared between the dog and the younger girl. No one just gives food away on the streets. There’s always a price, and it’s better to pay now than later. “Yeah.” She is hungry. But still, she refrains from accepting the sandwich immediately and proceeds to dig into her pants pockets.

In a couple short seconds, Squeaks produces a small set of keys connected to a slightly shabby neon blue rabbit’s foot by a short chain. She doesn’t know what the keys go to or remember where she found them, but the rabbit’s foot looked neat. “Trade.” It’s an offer, keys and foot for the sandwich. Her free hand comes up to accept the sandwich while the other holds out her offering.

While she seemed perfectly willing to give the food, the trade gets a long moment of thought before she accepts it. "'kay."

Sandwich is given, the rabbit's foot is taken and her thumb run over it idly. "I've been hungry before," she says, that same slight disaffected tone to her voice as she looks up back towards the rooftop. The rest of that train of thought is still kept silent, and it's a little while before the older teen offers her name. "I'm Eimi. You been in town long?" If there was an accent to her voice at any point in time, it's faded and been replaced with years of disuse.

Seeming to be satisfied, debts paid and the sandwich is her’s outright, Squeaks makes it disappear into her jacket. The dog hasn’t wandered far off, appearing at ease for the moment following the exchange between the two girls. The younger one has basically dismissed him from the present moment, anyway.

Her gaze follows the older girl’s upward, then settles on Eimi when a name is offered. “I hid from the war,” she explains, “underneath.” She points toward a sewer access cover. “Not there, but I can get there. Squeaks. Jude.” With the names, she points to herself then the dog respectively.

There is a nod to the introductions, and Eimi grins a little bit at the presence of the dog. "Been here about a month. And a bit." This is offered in return, and the grin eventually fades. "Surviving is important," she agrees, and then looks up again.

"Sometimes it feels like the war isn't really over." This observation is quiet, and then Eimi says, "Enjoy the sandwich… stay warm, yeah?" She doesn't disappear quite yet, but her gaze keeps going to the rooftop.

“I survive.” Squeaks follows Eimi’s gaze upward again. She stares, studious in the way of expectation. But whatever the older girl sees, she doesn’t share in that vision. So she asks. “What’s up there?”

"The rooftop." It's not a helpful answer, but then Eimi follows it with, "Freedom. I dunno." Her shoulders lift in a shrug, and she says. "I was up there, I saw you looking through the trash and thought you could use the sandwich." She shakes her head absently, shrugs her shoulders one more time. "I'll see you around." And yet, she doesn't disappear.

At first, when Eimi explains, Squeaks continues to stare at the rooftop. “Freedom isn’t a thing, it’s a concept.” That said, she looks at the older girl. “There’s no more freedom up there than there is down here.” She turns away then, and gives a whistle to Jude as she starts on her own way, looking for the next place to pilfer from.

"It's where you find it," Eimi responds, and shrugs. As Squeaks turns away, the younger teenager might hear the rush of air as Eimi teleports, footsteps on the ledge of the rooftop above.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License