last_kallig: (SWTOR)
last_kallig ([personal profile] last_kallig) wrote2024-07-20 07:58 am

OOM: AU Child! Ibani

The last few months have been even harder than usual, after the death of her mother figure. Perhaps grief made her weaker, more vulnerable to sickness, because she knows she's dangerously ill. She hadn't meant to wind up here, wherever here is, but it has shown up in the nick of time.

Ibani shivers against one of the walls of Milliways, her body wracked with fever and hunger both. She's somewhere between seven and ten, clothed in fabric with far too many holes in it, and wearing a slave shock collar around her neck. Her bones stand out too sharply against her skin, and her eyes are fever bright and darting around the room.

She's not sure if this is some dying hallucination, if she's gone mad, or if she truly HAS wound up somewhere utterly strange. Whatever this is, instinct and her body DEMAND food, fuel to fight the sickness that is killing her. Untrained in the Force, she's grasping on instinct for any energy it can give her.

Maybe, maybe if she gets close enough to one of the tables she can steal some food without anyone noticing. Yes, yes that's a good plan
27_53: (food of the gods)

[personal profile] 27_53 2024-07-20 05:56 pm (UTC)(link)
There are always many options for food in Milliways - and the variety is incredible. Different cultures, different preparation styles, different levels of "healthy".

At a table nearby where Ibani has found herself shivering against a wall, there is a man (at least he LOOKS like a man, maybe he does not feel exactly like one if you are paying close attention) who is settling in with several white boxes of folded paper that he has fetched from the bar. His coat is also threadbare in places, patched on the elbows and some...questionable...staining here and there is visible.

"Would be easier if the rats would just bring it," he mutters to nobody in particular. He struggles with the carton that contains the spring rolls, once he rips it open after fighting with the tab, a spring roll goes flying and ricochets off the bench across from his booth, hitting the floor beneath the table.

Whatever. The Loompas will clean it up. He has bigger priorities.