Snippet #2778713

Eileen did indeed reach up with her ornate leather glove and put her hand in Doreen's. Everything said a substance was there, with hints of flesh and bone inside, as if small fingers idly moving. Though some of the senses denied or inconsistant. The faint wrinkles of leather present to Doreen's fingertips a bit too smooth. As was the rustle of mittens not leather between fingers came to ear. Neither cold nor warm however expressed a presence to doreen in partial void of that sensation. If anything Eileen's small glove kept heat from escaping a larger hand supremely well.

Floated along beside to the city without the constant bob of legged people her cheer bobbed instead. Humming to herself reached into her small tailcoat jacket to pull out a book. A feather popped from the spine of a book bound in downy black cloth, On its front a label of sterile grey letters 'Eileen Mulford, Humankind, Anchored, Viable' a label also written shadowy places of dark stone.

Manipulated with one hand the book refused to totter away from her touch. Bobs and weaves balanced on her fingertip Eileen's gyroscope and compass. She raised it and looked to the environs though inside the clearly open book Doreen would see nothing. Just empty tan vellum pages spread open.

Eileen's moving gaze in rapt attention to the page belied something there as did her cheer, "There's so many little lines! The dark men must look here a lot! They're really busy though. They said I could go anywhere I could see the lines."

She looked down past her tailcoat where an amorphous overlong torso of white simply ended. Where legs ought to be had never been at all. The lower half ill-structured and wavy as if half-forgotten.

In a child's passing interest of serious things looked up to ask, "Do you think the university has legs? The dark men said they weren't allowed to change my busted legs. I dunno."

She bobbed side to side a hips underneath push her red tailcoat at angles, "I guess I like this better than my old wheelchair. Stupid no-legs!"