A/N: written for Soryenn


"I can't believe we can't have bigger rations," someone says. "It's soup again for a week in a row. I'm starving."

You hear a few agreeing murmurs, a sigh of old London's name. You memorize their faces.

"Keep your mouth shut," you say. "You're alive thanks to the Captain."

You see the troublemaker stealing a slice of bread, but you keep quiet then.

Later, just before the evening prayers, you mark his door with a red X, branding him a traitor, bringing righteous punishment down on him.

The City must survive and God will save us all if we're faithful.