[h2]The Ashland: Epsilon’s House[/h2]

They had been out there in the gardens since before the sun first breached the horizon, picking away the weeds that had sprouted up between the roots of the crops, watering, harvesting the fruits of their labors.

Mostly Epsilon’s labor, really. It was hard to say that the kid had done much work since she hadn’t arrived too long ago- a few weeks, maybe- but she had done what she could do help, dutifully dragging the watering pail out back at the break of dawn, checking the leaves to make sure that they were healthy and not just rotting away on the stalks. 

The kid was a good one, Epsilon thought. Not much for complaint. She’d earn her keep, then stuff herself into her favorite seat, reading some of the old books Epsilon had lying around with the same level of enthusiasm a drunk would suck down a pint of liquor. Care- Caroline had been too much of a mouthful for Epsilon- Care, she’d been working on some ancient human thing for the past couple of days or so, pages all yellowed and beaten. [i]Brave New World[/i], it was called. She’d talked about it a few times after Epsilon coaxed it out of her, in that quiet, toneless voice of hers. There was a sort of caste system in it, she said. The Alphas at the top, intelligent and artificially made to be the best of the best, and at the bottom, the Epsilons. Dumb, senseless brutes, that only did what they were supposed to, because they could think of nothing more.

Epsilon had laughed at that. [color=#E41B17]“Sounds about right.”[/color] The kid didn’t seem to think that was too funny, but she didn’t really ever look as if she found [i]anything[/i] funny. So Epsilon just assumed that she did and left it at that. 

It would be a good while before Care could get her reading time, though. It would be a busy day, seeing that they had to clean and prep the crops. If there was anything spare, that would go to the trading block a few miles away.

On top of that, there was the fact that Epsilon was finally feeling more like herself again. The slashes across her back no longer tore open at the slightest tug, and the pain that came with moving was now just a sore throbbing. She wasn’t at the top of her game yet, but it wouldn’t be long now before she could get back to work.

And, in turn, help the kid finally find her family.

Hefting the bag of greenery over her shoulder, she strode back into the hut, motioning for the kid to do the same. The house was modest enough- more of a shack, really, built against the face of a stone cliff just enough to allow for a pocket of backyard, which Epsilon kept covered with netting to keep the birds out. The stone that made up the walls had been worn down, the tin roof that capped it rusted. There was an outhouse and water pump some distance away, and surrounding the whole place was miles upon miles of dust, scrubby plantlife, and patches of grass.

It wasn’t much, but it was home, and that was good enough for Epsilon.

Dumping the dandelion greens she had picked onto the mottled table inside, she turned to Care, gesturing at the mess. [color=#E41B17]“Start sifting through all that. Pick the heads off. If we’re lucky, we’ll have enough to get some wine to sell off.”[/color] Epsilon grinned, a sort of crooked tooth smile, even as Care simply stared back with those glassy eyes of hers. 

[color=#7E587E]“Yes, miss Epsilon.”[/color]

Deciding to give the “Miss” a pass this time, Epsilon headed outside with a bucket, and set it beneath the mouth of the pump. She gripped the handle, then, muscles working, set to work in filling up the bucket. 

It was shaping up to be a productive enough day, by the looks of it.

[hr]
[h2]The Erubescan Citadel[/h2]

Cordelia liked her job.

Cordelia liked it quite a bit.

She would wake up at six in the morning, sharp, and clock in. She would slip into her labcoat, greet her coworkers, then either take on a new assignment, or get to work on any that still needed to be finished.

She enjoyed her work. She enjoyed feeling the advancement of knowledge blooming beneath her fingertips, of wrapping her hands around ignorance’s through and squeezing, squeezing down hard until it gave its final gasps of breath and fell still. She enjoyed talking with those like-minded, bouncing ideas back and forth and back and forth and back and bckc and fback andbak adn
It was here that she felt she truly belonged. It was here, that she knew without doubt where she had [i]purpose[/i]. 

Today, she was preparing for a meeting. A very special meeting. With very special people. With people who could fund their ideas. Her ideas. They could fund everyone’s ideas, and there would likely be a few that would commission yet another breed of hover tiger, but it would be impossible to know what would happen until it happened. Cordelia made sure to take special care in putting together her appearance for today, which would hopefully help sway a few extra dollars that wouldn’t otherwise be sent their way.

She stepped into the elevator at the end of one of the many hallways winding their way through the Citadel, punched in the floor number, and shot upward. A few seconds of the latest in classical music later, Cordelia bounded out onto wine-red carpet and towards the meeting room. This slice of Citadel was designed in such a way to best accommodate visiting wealth; the walls appeared to be some sort of polished stone. Arched windows, latticed with artificial iron allowed for a breathtaking view of the surrounding city- of the haze of clouds drifting along the tallest buildings, and the smaller looking like some charming miniature one might see a toy train sputtering through. Cordelia passed painting after painting of various landscapes and royals as she swept along, only to take a sharp turn right into one of the currently-empty rooms.

The room was just as pretty as the hallway, if not moreso. One side of the room opened up into even larger windows, providing a grand view of the cobblestone paths directly beside the building, and all the tiny figures hurrying along below. The table was of some sort of fine, dark wood Cordelia couldn’t identify for her life, and, locating her seat, sat down and immediately began to bounce her foot up and down as she waited. 

After a pause, she set down the stack of folders that she had been clutching onto the table, then returned to her foot-bouncing.