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Refugee Eileen Rosenblatt: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble

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Auw, touchy @Vylaa.


((Unknown Location, Rogue World))
Rosenblatt: Ark’Va is bringing your friends. If you’ll excuse me, I have some duties to attend to.
Eileen slowly made her way through the shelters after leaving the new arrivals, her previously normal strides now reduced to short, shuffling steps, her limbs now feeling the weak achiness that now followed on the heels of exertion. She smiled and held up a hand of greeting to a small group of friends, but said nothing; her breaths were coming in short gulps and she needed every bit of air to make it to her quarters.
The path ahead seemed to stretch in her mind, like space just before just before going to warp. A sixty meter walk seemed like a kilometer. She tired easily, forcing several rest stops where she watched her friends and their families go about their day. This was nothing new to the aging human, it often took her longer than it used to to make this walk. Buros had often implored her to start using a cane, saying it would make her daily rounds far easier, less tiring. He’d even handmade a lovely looking walking stick for her, but stupid vanity had meant it remained propped against a wall of their shared home.
After a seeming eternity she reached their door and pushed the panel of woven tree branches aside before ducking inside. She took a brief moment to adjust to the pale glow from the shroomlights before sitting on the lone bed along the back wall. The single room was sparsely furnished, just some rough wooden shelves attached to the ad hoc walls made from a mix of old landing craft panels and planks of wood.
They didn’t need anything else. Unlike many of the others, they hadn’t been blessed with children, so a second room hadn’t been needed. Not that she and Buros hadn’t wanted children, but consecutive miscarriages had taught them the hard way that it wasn’t in the cards. So Eileen had put her energy into other peoples children; making sure they were fed and clothed, happy and safe. That was how she’d found purpose in their unintended exile.
She turned to one of the smaller shelves, over the bed, once her breathing returned to normal. She took down various bowls containing medicinal plants foraged from the planet. She began adding small amounts to a cup of water kept by the bed, feeling much like a witch brewing a potion. A touch of this, a dash of that… All she needed was a bit of eye of newt. The resulting concoction tasted as fowl as such a witches brew must surely taste, but it helped her condition, made it easier to get through the day without a vise squeezing her chest.
She made a face. The concoction defied getting used to, like drinking mud. The door creaked aside again, and Buros peeked in before entering. His tall frame almost didn’t fit inside and his greying hair almost brushed the ceiling. He sat by Eileen’s side and took the cup from her hands and glanced at the undissolved dregs of her medicine left behind at the bottom.
Ghamaar: We need to get you off this planet…
Eileen glanced at the door.
Rosenblatt: I won’t leave them behind…
Eileen Rosenblatt and Buros Ghamaar
Simmed by
Ensign Vylaa zh'Tisav
Engineering Officer
USS Gorkon
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