Scatter the Pieces [IC]

[SPoD]

"You'll catch your death dressed like that," she said finally.

Eztra blinked, then looked down at the coat. "Oh! Yes, I...I don't really know much about the...I had a field guide who used to fix it for me, but he's..." she trailed off. He's dead, of course. They're all dead, except for three survivors. She had to learn to do it herself.

She made an effort to unfasten and refasten the coat, her hands fumbling in the mittens. It didn't occur to her to take them off. Beneath her coat she was wearing leggings under a dress of fine violet cloth with a pattern of silver stars stitched in it—her father's cloth, of course. They always had bolts of the stuff laying about the house. She had always admired this particular fabric, but now she marveled at how flimsy it really was. It didn't belong here, in this harsh land; it had been born for fairer climates and easier tribulations. Like me, Eztra thought.

She did slightly better the second time around, insofar as she got all of the buttons into the proper buttonholes. When she was finished, she looked back up at the farm girl. "My name is Eztra. Eztra ej Arrakeej. I'm a student here," she starts, then corrects herself. "I was a student here. Do you live near here? Are there other people still alive?"

Eztra's question was partly answered when a small orange goblin maid appeared from behind a broken stone wall.

"Hello? Can I help you?" she croaked.

Eztra just stared at her, unable to process the simple question at first. "Help us?" she repeated numbly.