(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

vitality rising up under her skin, as if she'd been given a new life. There was a
patterned tattoo around her neck. She started when I spoke to her. "Eh?
What do you want?"
"I just wanted to ask you some questions..."
She tilted her head in a fey manner, "Mayhap I got answers for you, and
mayhap I don't."
"Tell me about yourself."
She smiled proudly, "Me? I got two names now, and I'll show you only one -
don't want you stealin' the new one, hee hee! You can call me Radine, pet,
and I'll hold this other name tight to myself, I will."
I felt the slightest stab of- well. I wasn't sure what. Need, perhaps. Envy?
Looking at a blank-eyed villager walking past, with no past and no future,
part of me knew that he and I were alike in some ways. Nameless drifters on
the wind. I looked back to Radine. "Two names, eh? Must be nice to have
them."
"Aye, poppet, it is," she said with a proud nod.
"Tell me about this place."
"The Buried Village?" she looked at the ramshackle buildings, "Nice enough
place, I suppose, if you don't mind the stench of corpses being torn open,
garbage heaped on the roof, and the constant scurrying of rats 'round here.
Much colder with only a name and no number to protect you, that's for
sure."
"Tell me about the number," I asked, glancing at the tattoo.
"This squirmy thing? It's an identifyin' number. It's my number, gave to me
by a kind man who saw me cold without the protection of numbers to back
me up. Now I got it and I'm happier'n I ever been before."
I leaned in a little closer. "Interesting. How does it work?"
"Safety in numbers, and with safety comes warmth, and with warmth comes
comfort. Numbers can do it all for you, dearie, as long as you respect their
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