ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ғᴏʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀs ( ᴏᴘᴇɴ )

[bellator]

Who: Eleven + you, yes you
Broadcast: n/a
Action: upon the different ships. yes all of them + planet
When: until 8/23

( a; your ship, yes, YOUR ship )

[ it doesn't really matter where she finds herself at. a ship might get a happy tune and some pudding or cake but the girl slips away before she can be noticed by too many people.

she doesn't seem to understand the basic concepts of being assigned anywhere. eleven hides in a little alley and she cries for the better part of an hour, rocking herself back and forth, calming down a storm she feels brewing at the back of her mind.

she knows this. she knows the panic that comes with being alone but she also knows what to do.

so for the first part of her stay, she knows little to nothing about being assigned anywhere. she simply treats the entire fleet as a survival area of a sort. and so, if you hear an odd noise at night coming from your ship's cargo bay? it's not a ghost.

she's a sight, to be sure. shaved hair, a once-pretty pink dress that is now muddied and dirty. her nose is bleeding and - she's eating your food. whatever it is you have, it's on the floor. vegetables, fruit, space cereal covered in protein goo.

judging by the demin jacket resting on the floor, she's been sleeping there. upon seeing anyone, she'd startle and do whatever it is a lost twelve year old would do upon being caught stealing.

she runs. you better be quick if you want to catch up with her. ]

( b; planetside )

[ there are too many people and far too much noise.

eleven can be seen sitting on her own at different corners of the streets, eyeing things with a mix of fascination and suspicion. the amusement park, the shops, the weirdos.

she's used to being one, herself. she seems to look at the aliens as if they have something in common.

one might mistake her for a street-child with the way she looks and the way she acts, keeping to the shadows, observing everyone and everything.

approaching her would result in an attempt to slink away.

one thing is certain, the girl is scared.

she's not exactly friendly, either. ]

Comments

[reconstitution]

That's right, space. You'll get used to it pretty quick.

[ The gesture isn't lost on him, it speaks louder than she does. He holds his hands in front of her, palms up, showing her his mismatched hands. ]

Most of us are pretty weird.

[bellator]

Weird.

[ she repeats, taking a step closer, peering at the metal of his hand. it's not something she's ever seen before. Mike would know about it. Eleven doesn't have his knowledge but she's able to touch a finger to the metal and nod in agreement. ]

Weird.

[ indeed. only she doesn't seem to mind. the child is almost smiling. she's used to being the only weirdo, you see. ]

[reconstitution]

So, how about a pair of weirdos go and find you some waffles?

[bellator]

Eggos.

[ she corrects, it's apparently very important. but she doesn't seem so keen on running away anymore. instead, she'll follow him rather dutifully. a silent thing, looking all around her at the world as it unfolds.

it's no so bad, walking like this. she does miss the bikes. ]

waffles.

[ she says, after long minutes of silence. as if she had finally accepted the fact that waffles would have to do even if they're not strictly eggos. ]

[reconstitution]

[ Of course he doesn't mind the silence that follows. He can appreciate that the moments don't need to be filled with talking, though kids tend to like that. For now, the focus is finding a restaurant that serves breakfast. There's bound to be plenty around, but dammit, he wants a good one. When she speaks up, he turns to look at her. ]

Good waffles. Not what comes out of a box. Preferably with some eggs and sausage, too.

[bellator]

eggs? sausage?

[ evidently, those words and their concepts are entirely new. but if they come with a waffle, maybe they're as good as. she won't mind. anything would do after a day or two of stolen protein cubes. ]

[reconstitution]

That's right. They go best with waffles or pancakes.

[ He stops when they reach an acceptable place and holds the door long enough for her to slide through before picking out a booth. ]

You look like a girl who can eat a lot.

[bellator]

Pancakes?

[ another new one. and the restaurant! eleven has only been to one and this one is much cleaner. it helps that she didn't come to steal, for a change. she sits down and looks around, picks up a fork and inspects it. for a girl who's been eating out of boxes, this is rather new. ]

girl.

[ she nods. looking pleased. she was mistaken for a boy more than once. ]

[reconstitution]

Pancakes are infinitely better.

[ He pulls out the menu and hands one to her. Thank goodness for menus with pictures of food, right? ]

Get whatever you want.

[bellator]

[ she looks at the pictures for a moment and then simply points at the waffles and then at a picture of ice cream.

she's a girl of simple taste. ]

[reconstitution]

[ He looks at her selection and nods in solidarity. Go nuts, kid. Eat whatever you want. When the waitress comes around, he orders for both of them and turns back to Eleven. ]

So.. got a name, squirt?

[bellator]

[ she stays motionless for a moment or two quietly, inspecting him. when those pass, when she seems to have determined he's safe, she tugs on the sleeve of her dress and shows him the number tattooed on her inner arm. it reads 0 1 1.

she points to herself and eyes the tattoo. ]

[reconstitution]

[ He waits patiently, frowning slightly when it clicks. ]

Eleven? [ He'd argue that that's more of a codename than an actual name, and boy does that hit close to home. ]

Do you want to be called that?