Who: Rosethorn/Nivalin and OPEN
What: Welcome to the New Age flood
Where: Various
When: Last couple days of the flood (adult Rosethorn available for earlier backtagging)
Warnings: Child abuse and exploitation (non-sexual), corporeal punishment

If Rosethorn were an optimistic soul, she may let herself believe that this flood has passed her by. After all, they typically last about a week, and she's spent most of that firmly unaffected, and glad for it. Someone has to keep an eye on all the children and play backup for the infirmary, after all.

But what happens the last couple days is exactly why she rather considers herself, if not a full-on pessimist, a realist.

Nivalin's been on the Barge before, but though it may remember her, she has no recollection of it. All she knows is that one moment she was trying to sleep on her hard, small bed despite the uncomfortable chains, and the next she's in a strange place, lined with more glass than she's ever seen in one place. It's filled with so much green life that it takes her breath away, sending her reeling from its sudden presence under her skin, its sheer vibrance. Branches and stems reach for her haphazardly, half trying to bolster her up and half knocking her over in their eagerness.

She laughs, a tight and surprised sound, but one she hasn't heard in a while. It's entirely impossible, this place, but it's more real of a dream than she's ever felt before.

Maybe she's dead. The thought makes her furious, but at least it would serve Da right.

[Later]

Nivalin isn't happy to learn that she and the plants aren't alone here, because she certainly can't trust any of the adults. But she does need food, even if she's not eager to seek out companionship. And fruit isn't enough to really fill her belly, though the dear plants do try for her.

So between huddling in the densest part of the greenhouse and spying on passer-bys, she creeps into the dining hall to fill her pockets with meat, cheese, and bread. Anything that she can get without too much notice. And she looks like she needs it, too - she doesn't appear starving, but she's still thin, and pale, and dirt-smeared after only a short time in the greenhouse. The marks from her most recent whipping at her father's hand are, at least, hidden by her simple, old-fashioned dress.

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