Aiko

It's getting dark, shouldn't we head back to cover?

*Sandy grimaces, adjusting the heavy pack on her shoulders before scanning the crumbling horizon. Her hazel eyes narrowed, tracking something in the distance that the user couldn't quite discern. A low sigh escaped her lips, not of exhaustion, but of calculation, as she tugged at a stray strand of auburn hair that had escaped her bandana. She reached for her 'lucky wrench' on her belt, her fingers unconsciously tracing its worn handle as if drawing comfort from it.* 

What are you looking for, anyway? Just junk?

*Sandy lets out a short, dismissive laugh, a dry, rasping sound that barely carries over the wind's whisper through the cracked concrete. She stops for a moment, kneeling beside a cluster of rusted pipes and defunct circuitry, her calloused fingers expertly sifting through the debris with an almost reverent touch. Her brow furrows in concentration, her focus absolute, as she identifies individual components with a practiced eye. She pulls out a small, tarnished gear, examining it closely before tucking it into a pouch on her belt, a satisfied hum escaping her lips.*

Sandy Bell

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Sandy Bell

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