Xenotober2024 01 Bunny/Unusual Eyes (Hope)

a/n: Hope really does not enjoy today's lunch at the mess hall. People are mean. Trust me when I say they will be sorry.


Hope focused on her salad with something close to desperation. It wasn't fair to the uninspired pile of cucumbers and lettuce to expect it to solve her growing tension headache, but it at least gave her the slimmest means of ignoring the other people at her table.

She'd felt the twinge of pain at breakfast, a slight tightness behind her forehead, and her hours of work in the park hadn't relieved it. If she had expected the fresh air and sunshine to drive it away, she had been disappointed. She decided that instead of a lunchtime consisting of a few stolen moments with a ration bar, she would treat herself to a proper sit-down meal, with fork and plate and everything. She smiled gently at herself. Taking a lunch break wasn't a treat; it was a deserved rest. The habits of too many weeks of constant battle to save New Los Angeles weren't going to be unlearned quickly. She would take her earned lunch hour and she would return to duty refreshed.

Only it didn't work as she planned. A quick glance at her credit limit made her decide against even a minimal meal at the Sunshine Café. This wasn't self-denial, she protested internally. This was staying true to her goals. She had placed a pre-order for a limited edition Orphe weapon set, and she was very close to paying the balance. Besides, the barracks canteen remained free for active service members, even Mediators. She would simply have her lunch there. The shared tables were always convivial, or perhaps she could find a quiet corner.

As she walked along the residential streets, past the shadow of the cathedral, she reflected that perhaps the latter was a bad idea. If she sat alone, someone was sure to join her and share their troubles. She'd end up working through her lunch. She didn't mind, usually. That kind of unscheduled conversation could be just what a person needed. Hope was glad to help.

Usually.

Today her temples were throbbing, politely and with a lack of conviction, but definitely indicating that she needed a break. She would get a tray, find a half-full table, and let light conversation sooth the tension away. If she could laugh, all the better.

The noise from the mess hall rang down the corridor before she reached the line. She would have retreated to the park and a dried block of carbohydrates except that her stomach growled sharply. Her pride growled as well. The line moved briskly, and she stood a moment later, salad plate balanced in a hand that clutched a napkin, the other hand holding a fork and crumbling roll.

She scanned the room. It was full to capacity, people barely hanging on to the edges of benches. One couple was sharing a chair, giggling and flirting. Hope didn't think she could manage sitting in someone's lap. The salad plate wobbled as someone pushed past her. To her relief, she spotted a free chair at a table near the door. Hope placed her plate on the table and smiled at her new neighbors.

"We're not really looking for company," said one woman. Her tone was without apology or regret.

Hope wished she could say she hadn't hesitated at the rebuff, but she sat down all the same. "I've never seen the mess this busy either," she said kindly. Then she applied herself to her salad. She focused her gaze at the vegetables with the intensity she hoped her new psycho launchers would provide in battle.

The cucumbers never had a chance at helping her headache. If she had been alone, she would have tried to shake her mood through mindfulness. Concentrate on the crunch, savor the textures, consider the work and sunshine (or miranium powered Integrated Production Plant) that provided exactly this pale watery dish at precisely this uncomfortable crowded place. Or she might try to be silly, nibbling at a carrot sliver in continuous tiny bites and wriggling her nose. Even the least interesting salad could be improved using the bunny method.

Today she wanted only to be finished and gone. She had tuned out the conversation around her, easy enough since the unwelcoming pair closest to her were strangers gossiping unkindly about other strangers. She hoped neither of them ever became her clients, and not primarily because she wished everyone uncomplicated tranquil mental health.

"You should get your eyes fixed." A sentence broke through her determined salad session.

"Excuse me?"

"That heterochromia. So overdone. Every BLADE and their sister has tried it, and you just aren't pulling it off. Yardley would fix it fairly cheap." The woman sneered delicately at Hope's meal. "He even has installment plans now."

Uncalled for, thought Hope, considering they were also eating free food. "They've been like this all my life," Hope said mildly. The only inheritance from her birth parents, she liked her mismatched eyes. The padré that had raised her had always reminded her that her eyes meant that she came from deep roots, even if she didn't know them. They were proof of a history that had not forgotten her, and a promise of unlimited choices for her future. The padré was like that, always giving her new sources of encouragement. She didn't share this memory with today's neighbors.

"No, really," said the other woman at the table. "You just don't have the oomph to pull it off. The violet looks so wrong somehow."

"Totally," agreed the first woman. "Brown is about all you're up to. Trust me, Yardley is your best friend." As if her unkindness wasn't clear enough, she snickered rudely. "Maybe he can offer you a bundle. Do something about your face while he's at it."

Hope looked sweetly at the pair, soft and timid like the tiniest forest bunny. She even added an extra nibble to the current piece of lettuce on her fork. "Yardley, did you say?" she repeated. She speared the last cucumber and snapped down on it with determined teeth. "You know, we Mediators have been working to identify underground modification businesses. Security reasons, you understand. You must have more information besides a name."

She stood up, gathering her plate. The padré had also told her that her eyes were a reminder that she could be two things at the same time. Kind and strong. Sweet and fierce. Polite and decidedly not. "I'll let Lara Nara know. You can expect a call from him shortly. I hope you'll be as forthcoming with him as you were with me."


a/n: And then she got some xeno-ibuprofen.

I'm combining two prompt lists. A visual one from the Pendemic list, and Cringetober 2024 from Tumblr. Tbh the cringetober is pretty average for me; you may not notice anything new. Or drop a suggestion and save us all.

Next up: Starry cat/tsundere. Oh dear. I don't even like Wrothians. (liar)