Rest your weary flesh

This host was small. Dirty. Broken.  As Visi previously observed, filthy items that had been damaged and torn to shreds were often clumped together in bins. To fester, to convert to slime, to stink and offend. The host did this often -- Waste all, save not. A curious action, one that was baffling but duplicated by her own hands. But did they do this to their own people? Even with the smaller hosts? 

... Was this girl garbage? There was no one to answer her questions or provide more questions for her questions; she could only rely on what she knew: This host was alone. This host had legs. No matter the quality, this was a moment to take what she need. All she needed to do was get her into her alleyway. And her method was simple: At the entrance, was a doll on a string, its arm ripped off and with a note attached. In rough looking text, one word was scrawled.

In her own world, the tunnels that ran like veins beneath the city were filled with flesh-coated walls and treasures obtained from the corpses of their hosts. Brains, appendages, guts and glory to be admired and to inspire her brothers and sisters in their objectives. It held purpose. So it was strange to see so many worn books and odd artifacts in District Epilson instead of the familiar sight she had expected. 

The hosts were strange. So very different. But it delighted her curiosity and she began to flip through some of the books, not bothered by the moldy smell or the yellowed pages. Books about animals, books on history, studies on chemical engineering and theories of evolution... while she hid from the chaos and sunlight above, she had a world of knowledge to devour right here at her fingertips! “....?” One book was clearly different from the others. Smaller and less withered by age, suggesting it had been thrown down here only recently. Every page was covered in full illustrations with circles enveloping what few words it had. The hosts in it seemed to be practicing some sort of attack? Placing it on the ground, she made a game of it and attempted to copy what she saw, stretching out her arms,

She felt exposed in this setting. The sunlight baked the moisture from her exposed, leaving her itchy and longing for the cover of the night. And the crowds.... they left her feeling overwhelmed; disoriented from their sheer numbers and fearful of being discovered at any moment. Hiding in boxes and dashing into alleys could only keep her unseen for so long. Running away was tiresome; she need to find suitable accommodations or else. Clothes were a start. Something to hide the state of her body and keep attention away from her... and luckily for the fleshchild, hosts left them hanging. Up high on thin threads, crisscrossing between buildings. With shades drawn and lights off to indicate empty residences, Visi climbed a metal ladder, stood on a steal platform and attempted to shake down one of the dresses clipped on to the string. When gentle shakes, she became more aggressive: The line wobbled into a blur until finally the fabric flew down to the world below... ... and landing on top of the head of a host. 

Would anyone like a small starter? I’ll get to them once I finish completing my chores.