Post by Tabitha Lark on Sept 10, 2009 4:23:02 GMT -5
Tabby didn't have a home, not anymore. She didn't stay in one place. It was too dangerous. Scavengers broke into anything and everything. Sure, you could collect a bunch of possessions, but there was a chance that you'd come back from your own scavenging one day and find it all taken, or smashed to pieces.
Maybe if she'd had something more useful, she could have guarded what she had. But Tabby's power wasn't blowing things up, or turning invisible, or even being able to throw heavy things. And sure, she could make a nasty radioactive lair that would kill all humans (and most supers), but why not just set up a giant flashing sign that said "dangerous mutant here, please shoot in the head and hope she doesn't meltdown when she dies".
So she slept anywhere that seemed empty, and when she needed something that wasn't essential, she went out and fond someplace that had it. In this case, she needed a haircut, so she went out and found a place that still had a mirror she could use.
Gangs had broken a lot of the windows, but a few mirrors still hung around, mostly in barbershops and beauty parlours. It was like even the mutants were afraid they'd get seven years of bad luck. What a joke. What were seven years compared to the three they'd already suffered?
Tabby stood in front of the mirror, using a knife to cut her hair. The scissors were all rusted from the rain and the sun coming in through the broken windows. Her knife was still clean enough. She'd made sure to keep it clean and to keep it sharp. Clumps of dark hair fell to the floor as she cut it down so it was chin-length. She would have gone shorter, but she had a hard enough time convincing people she wasn't a boy. Why make it harder on herself?
She ran a hand through it and tried to see what she'd missed. A few bits in the back. Tabby always had a hell of a time reaching that. She did her best to measure it and got to slicing again.
Maybe if she'd had something more useful, she could have guarded what she had. But Tabby's power wasn't blowing things up, or turning invisible, or even being able to throw heavy things. And sure, she could make a nasty radioactive lair that would kill all humans (and most supers), but why not just set up a giant flashing sign that said "dangerous mutant here, please shoot in the head and hope she doesn't meltdown when she dies".
So she slept anywhere that seemed empty, and when she needed something that wasn't essential, she went out and fond someplace that had it. In this case, she needed a haircut, so she went out and found a place that still had a mirror she could use.
Gangs had broken a lot of the windows, but a few mirrors still hung around, mostly in barbershops and beauty parlours. It was like even the mutants were afraid they'd get seven years of bad luck. What a joke. What were seven years compared to the three they'd already suffered?
Tabby stood in front of the mirror, using a knife to cut her hair. The scissors were all rusted from the rain and the sun coming in through the broken windows. Her knife was still clean enough. She'd made sure to keep it clean and to keep it sharp. Clumps of dark hair fell to the floor as she cut it down so it was chin-length. She would have gone shorter, but she had a hard enough time convincing people she wasn't a boy. Why make it harder on herself?
She ran a hand through it and tried to see what she'd missed. A few bits in the back. Tabby always had a hell of a time reaching that. She did her best to measure it and got to slicing again.
