To say humor was unfounded in her daily dash through life was evasion of the truth. Echoes full of a rough chortle gave the room a character of amusement. Silly holos of robotic pets doing pet-like things, knocked the wind out of her as entertaining as it were. Though it wasn't the sole reason to laugh. The unserious nature of goofing off had felt rare when denied the simple pleasure to do so. Life was grim and everlasting with tales of persecutions, for those things to shrink in size with leisurely conversation brought up by strangers or those shared through emails from a sister that did more comedic stretches of dad jokes to depreciating ones of her own behalf. It wasn't an often beat taken and when it occurred, the rumbling of laughter vibrated her entire chest. Shaking the points of vital Chakras which needed cleansing for the alignment of purpose served the body as needed. As it required the down time. As said by the revered elders, the sisters in arms, and self.

Hurt people make the mistake of snagging others in a snare to return the cycle of pain. Unconscious to the fact, direct orders sold on a common goal, saw the disappointment and pain as a direct result. Making friends and betraying them. Snagging colleagues to lovers of importance pipeline, albeit influential, for the sake of gaining trust to gather Intel, wasn't the worst of it all. Damned the soul for the words spouted to the person who birthed her. Smite with a tongue that saw lashings to a degree that mere words of I hate you, would have sufficed. It was the search and seizure of the middle aged woman's whereabouts.

Spinning the abode upside down to prove a point of living in squalor and among the grifters who sold goods of the body in service to loving companions, instead of living in reality. She resented the woman for how grief was easily purchased. How it denied her the fight to keep the children she relinquished to a droid to care for. Making a mockery of what loss stood for in light of that, she shunned the woman with regrettable words. Justifiably felt right at such a tender age, the brokenness of a young woman haunted her days of current. Foolish to humiliate, chase off the person who tried but failed and cornered to live with those decisions much as her eldest daughter had to do the same.

One thing that was indoctrinated was the source of community to not have to fight anymore. Out of the charge came moments of misery where vengeance was the will of a land. Living from the isle nation held back from the truth birth of hopes and dreams. The ideals that revel on a frontier of hope that seemed so far in the distance where stars burned and remained. What dreams she lived in during nights of fuller rest were menial at best. Small in comparison but revolutionary to the output of ever being granted its extra power of strength. There was an abundance of fulfillment in doing what was wanted and living freely without the care to make many mistakes.

She looked to a sister who broke free and a brother who were to live a life reflective of the unit they were robbed of as children. Olu in secret wanted a family of her own. One built by rules of her own making, whether a partner was involved or not, or the blessing from her tribe granted. Living off a grid, deep into the canopy of Junipars tree of Anointment, where exiled thrived and ex-operatives retired. She saw the vision and etched it in memory that a different seed could be sowed as an extension of life and had a means to give access where wholeness could be realized.

Touches the toes, brushing the feet with a fine cloth ornate in design as much its crafted dyes. This awakened the brightness of the soul and alerted the stars like its creator had another gift awakened. It was every morning routine, loved by most, annoyed by others, yet Olu looked forward to it as a young girl. It said of the importance had as Mama Fola saw her as her own. Rearing many before the young one and more so after, she didn't see the difference in what she was rather than who she always was. A song of morning vibrated in the formal setting of low with an airy whirring mimicking the salt marsh bugs who joined in chorus on the opposite end of the day cycle. The song stayed with, even joining in at the routine ritual as she shed the ties of childhood and stepped over the Crescent bark of womanhood. They sang this melody for expats and newly born Gaima to learn and pass on as well. Although it wasn't the only note worth keeping Fola close to her memories, it served as a foundation to ground when difficulties seemed to persist.

in over her head was the purchase of a life steeped in secretive affairs. The late watching of superiors to boxing in a laborer just around to clean the office. One night that shift was relieved, acting as a service cleaner who operated droid assistance that somehow had time to go awry. Programming stifled and jammed as summoning a quick but premature hack. Given her minutes instead of the hour needed to scour for information in the office of an acting senior accountant. key card access lagged as the surveillance window narrowed by the second. It took multiple tries, sweat soaking the uniform at the pits, and near forced entry of a data point that was overestimated in its secured setting. Digits of sensitivity and its circuitry be damned, would it abort the mission being that close.

Sudden access provided, done sloppily, allowed the cybernated connection. Files upon files were sought after, including brushes with deleted email trails though it wasn't enough time before security brutes would make the rounds. Her mission dampened, given the few second window to disengage. When it happened and the pressure subsided enough to allow sounds of anything other than her heart to ring within ears, she slipped out. Tucked into a roll to shimmy across a row of desks that floated by idle use until escaping the heavy footsteps of routine checks, and out of the safety net of scrambled cameras to skimper to the stairwell to an abrupt exit.