Introduction of an Anarchist

[likeclearwater]

Here is a girl of eleven or so, tall for her age and thin, with a cloud of dark hair and a bearing that, even in the gangling uncertainty of pre-adolescence, is self assured, steady, supple with the freedom of someone who has never known a locked door

Comments

[decentscoundrel]

Pyetr looks at her askance, though not with hostility (askance is his default setting, particularly in a place like this). "Say again?"

[decentscoundrel]

Pyetr sighs inwardly. How does he get stuck with the solemn ones? "Well, some people have their own houses. And presumably their own kitchens. And some people won't eat here anyway, on account of the witches," though he can't quite keep that from coming out sardonic. "Me, I think if they're going to get me, they'll get me whether I try to do my own baking or not."

[likeclearwater]

Blink. Sadik turns a look of worried confusion up to Pyetr. "Their own houses - " she says, and looks around in befuddlement. "Don't people live together?"

She tilts her head slightly, frowning, attempting to parse. "What's a 'witch'?"