He was having trouble keeping his mind off things these days. He'd barely spoken with anyone who didn't hate him in nearly a week, had only eaten when reminded, had been cleaning nonstop for comfort. Finally he could clean no more, and he needed to go out and do something. Shopping. He'd go shopping. The small bed in the second bedroom, which had been his as a child but had never been used since due to the fact that when he came back from Mugroba, the sheets had had moth holes and were stained from disuse. He'd never gotten around to buying new ones. He should do that, now that he had someone that might possibly come over at some point. Maybe. If he came back. Two more days until he was supposed to. Anyway, sheets would be a good thing to have. And a blanket to fit that bed. The room had dark mint wallpaper, so possibly a nice dull red if he could get it. That would probably look good.

He got up from the couch near the window in his living room, grabbed his wallet and keys off the counter, and set out for Kingsway. Perhaps there'd be something there, and what he'd seen happen three days ago wouldn't be going on again.

He'd just stood there, witnessing, but not making any sort of move. It had been brutal. How could the police do that to someone who'd lived there all his life? They were supposed to protect the citizens, but apparently that didn't apply for wicks anymore. Funny. If it wasn't for the few galdori he knew that were good people, he'd be more receptive to some of the extreme views that the empire should be toppled, pulling the galdori into the dust. Eran wanted equality, if anything was going to change. He knew the people who didn't would be more than likely to hurt his friends, and the people who liked him were his ultimate priority.

He thought as he walked, and he walked faster as he thought. Soon he was at the market and looking for sheets.

"Oy, Cripple." Said Maria gruffly, rolling up beside him. Sitting on her lap is a bag full of about half of the contents of her grocery list.

Maria looked like death on wheels. Her ordinarily considerable facial disfigurement was amplified tenfold by the fact that she had clearly not slept in some time (say, perhaps 3 days). She tried to cover this up with a wide brimmed hat and a high collared shirt, but up close, nothing can hide her exhaustion. It is fortunate that she didn't have to stand, because it's fairly obvious that she would be incapable of such a feat, even if her legs were functional.

Even her axles even seemed to wobble more, as if they somehow knew of their master's dizzy spells and were gleefully taking the opportunity to exact revenge for all the staircases she's ever rolled down.

She was slouched down in her chair, only barely managing to keep upright. Hands shaking slightly, the battle hardened veteran looked haunted. It almost looked as if she were . . . terrified.

In any case, almost immediately after her initial greeting she grimaced, running her hand through her hair. "Gods, I'm sorry, Eran. I was . . . I was trying to be wryly ironic, and it came out sounding mean. Ugh."

And suddenly he had someone to be concerned about again. "'S fine. Had worse. Now, what on Vita's happened to you?" He put a concerned hand on her shoulder. "You look worse'n me, and I've not really eaten well in a week. You okay? Explains why I haven't seen you down on the floor in ages."
He scanned the market looking for someone selling housewares while waiting for her reply.

She shook her head. "It's nothing. Just . . . a preponderance of poor choices." she said. In her tired state she lost her vaguely foreign merchantman drawl - her speech exposed her education. "And then I ran out of food."

She's having trouble pushing herself along. Maria generally hated to be pushed anywhere - her wheelchair was built explicitly without handles - but right now it was questionable whether she would be able to finish her shopping and still make it back up the various hills between the market and her home.

"I don't know what that word exactly means, but I've got a good clue it has something to do with a lot. I've got shopping I need to finish; how about you shop with me and we can finish up together so you'll have company? Hmm?" If she wanted him to push, he'd push, but for now he wouldn't dare.

"Yeah . . . yeah, that sounds like a good idea." She said, nodding vaguely. "Yeah . . . " Maria's voice trailed off, as she seemed to lose herself to her thoughts.

"You ever think about joining the re-enlisting?" She asked, her eyes still staring off into the distance.

"No. Nonononono. And I don't like that you are. Maria, what are you thinking? Look at what's happened to us. You wanna lose it all? Why are they even re-enlisting? What's going on?"
Frustrated, he once again looked around for someone selling sheets. "C'n I see your list?"

She grins up at him. "Yer sweet, but I ain't plannin' on runnin' off ta war anytime soon." She shook her head. "But my Seventen. They haven't a damn clue . . . They keep pushing they direction they're pushing . . . " Her voice trailed off.

She stopped rolling, and closed her eyes. "Ever seen a city burn, Eran?" Her voice was slow, metered, as if she was forcing out each word. "I read about it . . . One of my ancestor's diary entries, from the old days - me an' my sister snuck up and read it some nights. He said from far away, it looked like the city was infested with fireflies, flickering on and off through the night. They had to move camp to a mile down the road, so they could sleep without hearing the screams . . . "

She shook her head, sadly. "They're just kids . . . Kids, without a damn clue what they're starting . . . "

"Still can't believe what went on the thirteenth. Man'd been in the city his whole life, and the way they were handling it, everybody got hurt. S'nuts. Still, Ria, I don't know how much you can do. Would they let you do training? How much older are you than these kids?"

((you're stretching the s/t continuum a bit entering that other thread, you know))

((It was late, and I was tired. It's amazing what seems like a good idea at such times))

"I can't help myself." She said, raising her hands in frustration. "It's in my clockin' blood! My family has been in the Seventen since the original three and a half score wankers realized they looked good in green and happened to be a nice even number! I hardly had a fair chance at anything else. I was basically born with a little sash and blackback." She was ranting now, her exhaustion making her a little overly talkative. She waved a finger wildly up at Eran. "If you cut me in half and looked inside, it'd probably say 'drill sergeant' printed all the way through! Yelling at people and soldiering comes as easy as walking down the damn street." She considered this statement for a moment, as her exhausted mind got caught up.

"I mean --- You bloody know what I mean!" She snapped. "My point is. I'm a consummate soldier, and even now, even now that I have . . . an unobstructed perspective . . . I still find it calls to me. I mean, just seeing those soldiers do bad soldiering . . . I couldn't help myself . . . "

((egads! I need a new rule: Do Not Join New Threads After 2am. You Will Destroy Reality.))

"Whoa, whoa, okay. Ria, think you need to calm down a bit. Yelling in the streets. Just...urgh, I don't know. I just don't know how that'll work, or...I don't know. Your decision, of course, but...you look really tired, Maria, you been sleeping okay?"
Finally, there were sheets, on a table filled with housewares. Oh, goodness.
"'Lo? M' looking for some sheets, for a single bed? Thanks."

((moddie for sheets salesperson?))

A little human woman peeked out from behind the table, her face squished into such a sweet grin her eyes didn't seem to open. Her white curls and wrinkled face welcomed the boy, "Hm? What can I do for you, dearie? Sheets? Single bed? Oh, sweeties, of course. What color are you looking for, hm?"

She began rifling through her collection, turning out stacks of single-sized sheets in pale pastels. "Color" seemed to be a misnomer, as each "color" was just a hair off "white" in pink, green, violet, and blue.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just having a bit of existential angst." She said, shrugging. "Can't sleep. Nightmares. Ugh. When I'm lucky it's nightmares . . . "

She stared at the sheets, and willed her eyes to focus. "Anything but pink." She said, giving her professional feminine opinion.

"S'okay, neither have I. Been having a really bad week." He looked at the small sheetseller, who vaguely reminded him of various doting female neighbours from his childhood. "I think I'll take a set in the green. Match the wallpaper. Thank you so much."

"Three tallies, please," the little woman said, packing the textiles in paper and tying it with twine. She held it out in one hand while extending the other for payment.

"Sure." He was not in the mood to even attempt to bargain with a little old lady, and fished in his pocket for a few minutes before coming up with the coin.

"The seventen need better training, and they need it desperately." She shook her head. "Even after all that's happened, after all that's changed, some part of me still wants to - still demands to . . . to . . . to help."

"Do you know anything you can do to maybe help out? I agree with you, with what I saw out there. I'm not sure what I would've done, but that just got people hurt an' angry. So I've got what I came for. Anywhere we need to go for you?"

She glanced at her shopping list, then crumpled it into a ball. "Nah, I'm beat. I think it's time to get back home. Walk me back?"

As she rolled down the cobblestoned lane, Maria somehow managed to look contemplative, her thoughts momentarily overpowering her sleep deprivation. She looked as though she was locked in combat within her own mind, caught waging some viciously bloody inner war. Finally, a temporary ceasefire was agreed to, and she spoke. "I'm just not sure what's best. Best for my people, best for my city, best for my world . . . "