[Center][h3][color=DAA520]Prudence Olivia[/color][/h3][/center]

[Color=FFDEAD] A shadow casting itself on the sundial marked the new days time as 6am. Olive sat at her makeshift desk, built of cardboard and tincans and not much of a sturdy place to set things. The desk did it's job though, it was somewhere that Olive could sit and read, or contemplate her next projects. The set up was against the longest wall of her tiny shack, her table taking up the corner where a window and wall met. Making it the perfect spot for sunlight, daydreaming, and people watching. Pulling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin between her kneecaps, she reached for a piece of charcoal and made another tally on the wall by her head.[/color][color=A52A2A]"48 hours.."[/color][color=FFDEAD] She'd say outloud, reminding herself of time moving on.  It had been 2 days since the last time Olive had slept or eaten. This happened sometimes, it was a roller coaster for her. She'd be okay, her days filled with learning new skills from long ago scholars then she'd binge on literature and expierments and find herself still awake a week later on her 20th motherboard made out of meat byproduct and aluminum foil. It was what she called her manic phase, where she couldn't stop creating no matter how hard she tried to leave it alone. This 2 day episode was no different, only it was. Olive had fucked up. For the first time in 15 years. In the process of creating skin grafts from different flora, she had accidentally killed the only flower that successfully stayed alive in this poisonous wasteland. It was just a flower but it died under her care, she had stripped it of it's petals and stems, then accidentally watered it with radioactive goop. Olive felt tired, signaling the end of another manic session. Grasping at the vase of the now dead plant, she'd push open the window and dump its contents down on to the road beneath. She'd leave the window open, letting the sunshine in for the day as she made her way to sleep. The bed in question being that of a soft pad on the floor, covered with blankets she'd collected over the last few years. Torn and dirty but well loved. That was basically everything Olive owned, old and well loved.[/color]
[Color=A52A2A]"Good morning, and goodnight world.."[/color][color=FFDEAD] Olive would murmur as she pulled the nest of blankets around her face and fell into a deep slumber, while the rest of the world was just waking.[/color]