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The hard-wooden wall of her alcove bruised Searc’s temple, and Searc curled further into herself to find that small shred of sleep again. Sleep alluded her, however. The sway of the airship and patter of rain frustratingly left Searc disturbed and sick to her stomach. Crust broke around the slit of her eyes, flaking down her cheeks and oil caused her eyes to water – opening her eyes were useless, Searc couldn’t see her fingers even if they were pressing against the feather strands of her eyelashes. If she concentrated hard enough, though, Searc could see an outline of a cow in the darkness and red blisters on vibrant inflamed skin. 

The airship jolted again and Searc inadvertently let out a whine. Anxiety quelled in her stomach and burning acid scorched her insides. Searc hated storms, even light ones like this.

When the ship is docked is the only time its moderately safe for Searc to visit the kitchens. Most of the crew are gone at that time, running errands or bumbling on deck. Searc knew what day it was. More members were joining today, which meant more people Searc must avoid. Getting food will be harder from here on out.

Food runs were a delicate business. Searc always took only what she needed for now, and the food was always the undesirable in some way or another. Stale bread, cheese eaten with mold, curdled milk. It avoided suspicion – they won’t miss what they don’t want. But with new crew members, with more risk, Searc can’t make as many food runs as she did before. 

Searc’s hands fumbled in the dark, numbly pressing against hard surfaces until a door gave way and small slivers of light burned her eyes. Time was of the essence, unfortunately, and so Searc spilled out of her nook. The floor thudded underneath her knees and palms – sharp needles ran up and down her legs and arms and her back ached from being curled in such a small place for such a long time. Searc stumbled, getting unsteadily onto her feet and making her way to the kitchens sluggishly.

The kitchens were empty – Searc thanked any deity looking out for her – and she rummaged in the bottom cabinets. She had to take more food than she would have liked – stock up in order to avoid more kitchen runs; both were risky business. She rummaged through the food, reaching in the back to find the expired meals, and felt a sack of baguettes.

[color=40E0D0]“Hi, food, time to come home with me.”[/color] Her voice sounded unfamiliar, croaking into the still air and scratching unpleasantly on the back of her throat. Searc talked to herself sometimes – to inanimate objects, sometimes – it kept her from going crazy, to make herself feel less alone.

The walk back to her hideaway unsettled her stomach and frequent tripping caused splinters to slide into the callouses of her heels. A cold sweat beaded her forehead, globules of salt damping her unwashed hair, and Searc licked her dry lips. The airship bobbed. Searc could no longer hear anything except for the sounds of rain, slapping against the ceiling above her head. The acid began to crawl up her stomach and bile rumbled against her throat.

Searc scrambled towards a bucket in the hull, leaning over it and acidic bile coughed out of her and into the bucket. There was no food in her stomach, so it was only stomach muck and frothed saliva.

Searc crawled the rest of the way to her hiding spot and curled in on herself, attempting to ignore the way the sweat felt like rain on her back.