<div align="center"><strong>-=that same unknown element – Eavesdown Docks, Persephone – blending in=-</strong></div><br/>What was it she’d been doing? Looking at manifests. Escaping. Surviving. Right…<br/><br/>She suddenly felt as if she hadn’t slept in weeks, her body needing the rest less so than her mind. She was filthy, starving, had nothing more to trade but the socks and jumpsuit upon her body, and was tired of being scared. She needed some stability, preferable in a place she could relax for a bit, sleep peaceably.<br/><br/>Nothing like that forthcoming, she dazedly skimmed her surroundings at the short end of a docking corridor, dozens of ships and spaces for more on either side of a wide boulevard. Stacked storage containers created temporary walls, mounds of cargo waited for their assigned pick ups, hawkers called out for passengers and immediate sales of goods. She noted one quiet spot away from the meat vendor, a couple of women lounging against some crates in various states of boredom.<br/><br/>Circumventing the busy travelers, she clung to the sides of the corridor, makeshift though it was. Slipping around the assortment of boxes near the docked heavy hauler, she approached the women with her eyes lowered, tugging at the rolled up cuffs loosely hanging around her wrists. Pretending to be distracted, she casually leaned against the long side of an empty, open storage container the size of a small shuttle. Furtively glancing at the women nearby, she lounged much like the farther one, a foot lifted to rest behind her against the container, her knee popped out, balanced on the other foot. Never mind she didn’t wear any shoes – she tried to look just like them and blend in, her head tilted to one side as if bored to death, hands upon her hips.<br/><br/>For several minutes, it worked. She ignored their mutilingual patter, overhearing complaints about the charges for the space one stayed at, where another got that fancy bustier, why the first thought a change was for the best regarding her tattoo and describing how another name added to her thigh would be good advertising. Her blue eyes closed, her body warm against the sun-heated metal wall. She listened for the snatches of silence between the conversations, attempting to quell her headache.<br/>