09-04-2013, 11:47 AM
With her unlikely band of helpers, Aeva doled out the last food from the basket, and quietly prayed to Rosmerta that none of the old, past the sell-by goods actually harmed anybody. The boxed biscuits and pasta had probably fared best for being two months old, and neither were especially nutritious, but if it stopped a family from going hungry then it would do. That last piece of scavenge had been lucky! The biscuits were neatly laid in metal boxes and some of the more resourceful in the mixed-race, mixed-language, mixed-age and patched-together community might be able to come up with a way to use them.
Two of the men, one Scandinavian and the other African, were already attempting to compare notes and ideas in something that resembled English, but which neither spoke with a great deal of skill. At least Aeva supposed that was what they were doing, since they were waving the tins about, nodding and gesturing, while the African's wife shook her head and doled out the recent contents of the boxes into a roll of freezer bags to share around.
Cautiously, Aeva had let herself become a little bit known in the market place. Some of the places were able to give her left over and out of date food that would otherwise be thrown away - at first, it was just about enough to feed herself so the precious few coins she earned might be spent on other needed tools and items for the gathering immigrant community which sprang up from the destitute group she had first visited.
Her sob story helped, of course, and in fact, was a true one although she lamented slandering the soup kitchens.
She had gone to them, once - not for soup (although her stomach growled at her) - but to plead with them to send some of their food to the Underground City. There was so much need; so many people without even time to fall prey to the vicious gangs and criminals down there because they were literally starving to death.
They turned her away.
Oh, they did it gently, and sorrowfully, and with explanations that they were simply too afraid to go near the place. The excuses didn't feed anyone though, and while she was sure they would have been willing to give her whatever was left over, the trucks and mobile kitchens only left when they had run out themselves. There was never anything left.
Stoves! The two men were trying to work out how they might make a stove to heat food and provide warmth for the community!
For the first time in a long time, Aeva smiled.
One of the Chinese refugees patted the spot next to her in invitation, and Aeva took her knife and bread to sit with her. She also had a packet of raisins and shared them, while the Chinese - girl? woman? Who knew? - added a sadly bruised apple and pear to their little feast. Aeva set to cutting the mould off the bread; the rest was only a bit stale and they talked to each other, just for companionship as neither knew the slightest part of each other's language. But that didn't matter - they just talked.
The others were also finding places to eat mix-'n'-match meals. When they went to collect the food, there were enough of them, now, that nobody tried to take any from them. Occasionally, someone would point out a beggar or lost-looking family and they would give away a little of the precious stock, especially if someone could be persuaded to join them. The larger this community became, the better protected it would be.
Aeva began working on her new project. Amidst her scraping about for any kind of fabric to make into clothes, she had found a man's coat. Her own garment was her passport into the better parts of Moscow - too many places turned away the less well off, and with some of the restaurants beginning to let her have the scraps for her 'soup kitchen', she couldn't afford to be too shabby when she approached and 'bring the place down'. Hers was going to be too badly off at some point, and she needed a replacement that was not expensive. This one was grey, rather than her dark blue, and had belonged to a gentleman who was obviously very large, and that meant she could cut it down to fit herself, over time. Any wearing at collar and sleeves didn't matter since she could cut them away.
She had taught some of the others to sew, as well - especially the infirm or elderly who could do little else to contribute. Contribution had become very important to all of them. There was currently quite a fashion in the Underground City for patchwork, and she tried very hard not to think about where some of it had come from.
Initially delighted that some of the others had found ways to scavenge on behalf of the community themselves, she wasn't sure it was in the best interests of the rest to know that some scraps - and some entire items of clothing - had come from corpses. In fact, Aeva tried not to think about it herself!
Two of the men, one Scandinavian and the other African, were already attempting to compare notes and ideas in something that resembled English, but which neither spoke with a great deal of skill. At least Aeva supposed that was what they were doing, since they were waving the tins about, nodding and gesturing, while the African's wife shook her head and doled out the recent contents of the boxes into a roll of freezer bags to share around.
Cautiously, Aeva had let herself become a little bit known in the market place. Some of the places were able to give her left over and out of date food that would otherwise be thrown away - at first, it was just about enough to feed herself so the precious few coins she earned might be spent on other needed tools and items for the gathering immigrant community which sprang up from the destitute group she had first visited.
Her sob story helped, of course, and in fact, was a true one although she lamented slandering the soup kitchens.
She had gone to them, once - not for soup (although her stomach growled at her) - but to plead with them to send some of their food to the Underground City. There was so much need; so many people without even time to fall prey to the vicious gangs and criminals down there because they were literally starving to death.
They turned her away.
Oh, they did it gently, and sorrowfully, and with explanations that they were simply too afraid to go near the place. The excuses didn't feed anyone though, and while she was sure they would have been willing to give her whatever was left over, the trucks and mobile kitchens only left when they had run out themselves. There was never anything left.
Stoves! The two men were trying to work out how they might make a stove to heat food and provide warmth for the community!
For the first time in a long time, Aeva smiled.
One of the Chinese refugees patted the spot next to her in invitation, and Aeva took her knife and bread to sit with her. She also had a packet of raisins and shared them, while the Chinese - girl? woman? Who knew? - added a sadly bruised apple and pear to their little feast. Aeva set to cutting the mould off the bread; the rest was only a bit stale and they talked to each other, just for companionship as neither knew the slightest part of each other's language. But that didn't matter - they just talked.
The others were also finding places to eat mix-'n'-match meals. When they went to collect the food, there were enough of them, now, that nobody tried to take any from them. Occasionally, someone would point out a beggar or lost-looking family and they would give away a little of the precious stock, especially if someone could be persuaded to join them. The larger this community became, the better protected it would be.
Aeva began working on her new project. Amidst her scraping about for any kind of fabric to make into clothes, she had found a man's coat. Her own garment was her passport into the better parts of Moscow - too many places turned away the less well off, and with some of the restaurants beginning to let her have the scraps for her 'soup kitchen', she couldn't afford to be too shabby when she approached and 'bring the place down'. Hers was going to be too badly off at some point, and she needed a replacement that was not expensive. This one was grey, rather than her dark blue, and had belonged to a gentleman who was obviously very large, and that meant she could cut it down to fit herself, over time. Any wearing at collar and sleeves didn't matter since she could cut them away.
She had taught some of the others to sew, as well - especially the infirm or elderly who could do little else to contribute. Contribution had become very important to all of them. There was currently quite a fashion in the Underground City for patchwork, and she tried very hard not to think about where some of it had come from.
Initially delighted that some of the others had found ways to scavenge on behalf of the community themselves, she wasn't sure it was in the best interests of the rest to know that some scraps - and some entire items of clothing - had come from corpses. In fact, Aeva tried not to think about it herself!