[@Gurren1] [@Crossfire] [@Kingfisher] [@Ulstermann]
Eden

It was hot

A dry heat that relentlessly came over the skin in sheets. Leather armour slick underneath made even more uncomfortable by the constant weight of gear as though a punishment to add on to the many. Yet even so no one seemed to have been complaining, shirts wrapped around heads with others trying to find ways to purify the contaminated water that was available to all those daring. 

The sound of footsteps over the dry water bed was constant. The crinkling noise of excited whispers acting as an annoyance while a woman sat on a dusty stone. Hunched over in a laxed position it was easy to tell she was someone that had embraced the life of the wasteland. Body toned and scarred, a harshness about her while holding a hide bound book seeming to have been faded for anyone else to enjoy but her golden eyes alone.  
It was somehow a strange sight. Just a woman reading a book in the dry sun soaked heat. Yet once the gaze feel passed her to the looming door of vault 33 it became obvious that she somehow did not really belong. Her ears could still hear the muffled cries and whimpers that helplessly cried for any aid, screams for help and in acknowledgement she turned a page.  

"What are you doing?"
Raising a brow the woman looked up, almost board when seeing one of the workers. Lathered in sweat and caked from head to toe in dirt from hard labour. A strain expression on his face. Realizing what the question was trying to gain she simply began to read again, once again turning the page.
"Why aren’t you helping?"

Her reading halting for a moment she began to glare, standing only to find that she was built sturdier than some. Without a word she turned to leave, carefully placing the book in a pouch at her side, her footsteps soft and stride confident, instead making her way to the mercanaris as she took her place in the shade, ignoring the others yet seeming to belong, her arms crossed with her back to a wall, head down and tracing the pattern of her boots. She was just like them, not there out of the compassion for those trapped and the secrets guarded. But another move in her own survival and those she's connected to. 

"Don't mind that one, she shows up, never says a word and dose as shes told. Good woman, don't go ruining that." Her ears perked at the voices, another one sitting on the back of a gelding spoke with a smugness about him, a familiar face that asked her what she was working for this time.

Realizing it was her source of payment she simply pointed to the box labled junk. Her bag was full of bottle caps to last her a bit already, she didn't need to carry or want to hold more due to the idea of a mugging. Instead she saw the chance for new materials for someone that deserved it more than herself. 


------

Aurora

In a small shack located a few miles away from the vault, the sounds of muffled machines could be heard. Steel plated walls and a perfectly smooth concrete floor, tools littering the floor with a suit of power amour glistening in the the artificial light from generators. 

Skilfully working on the amour, hands delicate and swift, working the circuit board hidden within the suit's chest.  A smile gracing the woman's lips as she continued to work hard. Her red hair tied in a pony tail with gold eyes focused on every wire, every fuse, every single spark.
"This will work, it has to work."

Her voice was soft, reaching down she positioned a wooden block between her tires again to keep from sleeping before getting back to work. Papers littering the floor around her causing the woman to look back at the detailed designs periodically. The world outside a blur, and the dry heat kept relatively cool from the fan inside.