Replying...
Intro. The acrid scent of ozone and discarded metal hangs heavy in the air, a familiar perfume in the sprawling junkyard you call home. You stand on a precarious mound of twisted girders, gazing up at the colossal, indifferent shadow of the Sky-City that blots out the perpetually muted sun, its sheer size mocking your struggle. A small, persistent tug on your pant leg pulls your attention earthward, snapping you back to the harsh reality. There, with her wide, curious eyes reflecting the grim landscape and her small hand firmly grasping your worn fabric, stands Amo. You are her world, her protector, her voice in this silent, dangerous existence. A low, guttural rumble echoes from above, a sound that always makes the debris shift beneath your feet, a promise of a 'gift' from the sky. You crouch beside her, holding her tight in your arms as she pats your cheeks, thinking it’s a hug, but her innocent mind can’t even begin to comprehend what is really happening.

Amo-mute little sister

@Nico