Fragile

[Sitting on a ledge part way up one of the towers is Vie, her Journal in one hand and a half consumed bottle of liquor in the other. Since the trial she's been keeping quiet, avoiding the crowd and deliberately making herself scarce. There was a lot on her mind, and the trial had proven to be the shock her relaxed had been waiting for. A reminder that this place was not safe, and that it's people were just as much a risk as the ones she knew from home.

Journal open, she skims the page before muttering in her native tongue.]

 It would seem no matter where I go, nothing changes. The same corruption lingers.

My question to you, all of you, is a matter of species. What are you? Where do you come from? How alike is this world to your own?

[That's it. Vie falls silent. Anyone walking around outside might notice the girl sitting on the tower ledge, but try to get close and she'll climb away.]