They’ve know the stares before (they are almost as familiar as the wind touching their shoulders) and they no longer fear them. It was once foreign and terrifying (eyes turning to watch their misshapen parade, shoulders nudging to encourage others to look, mouths whispering in disgust and horror) and now it remains only a daily piece of life. However, no one ever approached. They all merely watched (wide-eyed, mouths agape, muscles taunt) as they slowly walked by, then returned to their bickering and cherishing and gossiping.
So they are shocked when she approaches them. They huddle somewhat closer together – Smear standing off toward the left inches closer to the right – and their chins rise to watch her watch them. When she stops, she doesn’t say anything. She watches them and they watch her back. Skid notes the way her eyes rove as though she were counting (counting the physical deformities, counting the number of twisted legs, counting the cluster of them) and Malfunction tries to catch her gaze.
Finally, the eldest coughs. “Can we help you?” Although it might come out sounding harsh on any other tongue, Malfunction’s is properly attuned toward the softer side of things. So he – so they all – wait in anticipation for her to say something (anything) back.
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