[ the indignity of having her hair cut is the worst part of it all. there are many violations, but the hair becomes abigail's sticking point. she is missing an ear, the scar nearly across her throat is healed but still so obvious against her porcelain skin, both features of her past she could disguise with a dark curtain of hair. now on display for the world at large. she tries to maneuver a scarf around her head to cover her ear, then a woolen hat that itches. she'll suffer to disguise her disfigurement.

reminiscent of a skittish cat, she shies away whenever anyone gets too close, though too close for abigail seems to be a fairly wide birth, wide blue eyes cautious. it's a fair guess that she knows about the empathy bond and is not intent on ever activating it.

she doesn't settle, too distrusting, and she never seems to eat in the safehouse, but she makes a bed for herself in a dim corner. it's neat and she returns to it each night, even if sleep never seems to come easy. ]

[ she eyes the food trucks warily, a wariness that applies to every type of food, shaking her head at any and all offerings with a quiet ] No, thank you.

[ the idea of subsisting on air alone is an appealing thought but eventually she settles on a veggie plate. lettuce, carrots, parsnips, brussels sprouts, snow peas; all raw. there can be no doubt these are vegetables and only vegetables. nothing but vegetables.

she eats and walks, stepping to the other side of the street from the booths highlighting vr war games. a flock of hooting and hollering teenage boys celebrating their victory over the ai finally draws a reaction, a sneer of disgust. ]

Stupid.

( make something up! )