(Untitled)

[rocketsgrownup]

"Heeeelllloooooo?" Beka called, her voice fragmenting and bouncing around the empty corridors of the hive, "Anyone out there? I'm in paaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiinn

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[rocketsgrownup]

Beka followed the voices to the cages where she gaped in horror, "Hello? Is someone in there?"

[talkback]

"SIT RIGHT BACK AND YOU'LL HEAR A TALE, A TALE OF A FATEFUL TRIP!"

Chase stops belting the song to peer between the bars.

"Hey, your not a big furry."

[scaredbybook]

There's a girl here.

She's been working. Mostly, she's been making the place safer (if darker) by thoroughly filling holes that the acid rain wore through as it dripped.

Right now, she's on her way back to get more supplies. There's a streak of white dust on her cheek and dirt in her hair.

She moves aside quickly to let the woman pass, in the manner of someone who's feeling rather oppressed, thank you.

[rocketsgrownup]

"Hey," Beka stopped, trying to look the girl in the eye, "Is there a doctor or a healer or something here?"

This girl was so dirty... she looked like a Drago Kazov slave, albeit less dead-looking than slaves tended to look.

[scaredbybook]

Well, she does make eye contact. Her voice is soft, though. She doesn't really want attention.

"Yes. Down that way. The place with less Magog. He's not very pleasant." There's a hint of a smile there.

The dirt is standard-issue, considering that she's a bricklayer. There's a tool in one hand that might hint of this--well, depending on what time you're from.

[rocketsgrownup]

"I'll take him over tall, red and furry," Beka countered, smiling back, "Beka Valentine," she held out a hand to shake Kira's.

[badsidemanner]

"Then come to the infirmary and quit whinging, you wussy!"

...that came from somewhere over there. Somewhere.

[rocketsgrownup]

Pleasant.

"Be more specific and I will!" She called back, trying to find the source of the voice.

[badsidemanner]

"I can't come down there to tell you how to get over here. So you'll have to find ME."

But there's a tall man, holding the frame of a ruined doorway, looking around for the source of her voice.

[rocketsgrownup]

Beka limped toward the voice as best she could, feeling slightly helpless until she turned a corner and saw the doorway, "Marco?" She asked, grimacing as her leg gave a particularly painful twinge of protest.