Sylph stood in Zephyr City, next to her mech. Her Brastle Tiger. She was in one of the few gaps in the crazy jungle of metal and card that was her home - A gap that had once stood a long-demolished set of buildings (that happened a lot, since construction there wasn't exactly... Sound) that now served as a place to store mechs. There were a multitude - Human-like, animal-like. More giant robots than one cared to imagine, in fact! And the people! Pilots, looking after their machines, and squabbling like jackdaws with each other, before dispersing as if nothing had happened, and the Civilians, some plying their trade, whether nefarious or not, and some merely passing through, a few looking awed by what they saw there. Yes... Zephyr City was certainly a lively place. A dirty one, too. Sylph cursed her mech, and its shiny black metal: The dust was painfully visible, and she couldn't have her pride-and-joy looking messy! After all, she was in debt so she could pilot one of these things, after her... Accident.

Humming a tune, Sylph scrubbed the tiger's shoulder with a sponge tied to a long pole. Eventually, when she went back for water, she discovered that there was none left! Washing just one limb of the Brastle Tiger had used it all up! 

"Back to the tap, then..." Sylph huffed, and picked up the bucket in her mechanical hand, after which she proceeded to wander towards the communal (and rather temperamental) tap, provided for people to drink and wash with. It wasn't awesomely clean, but it hadn't made that many people ill, really, so the governing powers in Zephyr simply ignored the problem. 

And, as always, when Sylph reached the tap, there was a massive queue. 

"Ugh... Next time I'm getting a dust-coloured mech..."