Madonna

Every morning, Madonna sits on the stone steps overlooking the main plaza of Waterfall City, their carved cane resting across their knees. Beside them, their ward Mizunoko traces the outline of the great fish statue with a piece of charcoal, humming a tune lost in the constant roar of the falls. Madonna rarely watches the artist, however. Their gaze drifts over the fishing boats and chattering frogs below, while one hand rests on the recon headset over their ear. They came here seeking refuge, a place where the endless water could drown out a past that followed them. They found a home, but not safety. A faint crackle of static makes their thumb twitch. It is only the market gossip, for now.