open starters.

to access the magnitude of this betrayal

❝ could not be more vague if she tried…❞

it’s a half mutter - an external musing.  how on earth could the people of new colorado be wary of ‘betrayal’ when they have no fucking clue what that constituted.  was it something simple - or a more heinous crime?  only rumour and whisper and nothing concrete.  which - in moss’ opinion - was just dumb.  deciding to impose a curfew on citizens because of the ‘actions of one’ - as so astutely stated in the public address was…                                                   …even. more. stupid???  

had vivia been sniffing fermented vegetable vapour?

                                                 who exactly was betrayed?                                                   how were they betrayed?                                          why was the punishment citizen wide?                                           why cut off comms to the entire city?                                                      what rule was broken?

too many questions and no answers forthcoming - rattling around in the mechanics mind like fireflies trapped in a jar.  it’s – frustrating at best… infuriating at worst.  plus, the curfew was hampering his work… not that he had to work beyond the alloted time - BUT - all of those extras, the equipment for the hunters, and his little – uh… side projects… tended to be done ‘out of hours’.  so yeah… he’s pretty pissed.

❝ telling people they’re being restricted ‘for their own good’… that they’re being punished for a ‘betrayal’ - a crime that they - did not commit - is a sure fire way to piss off the entire populace.  en masse.  like… what goes through their minds???  seriously??? ❞

Cass could feel insanity beginning to seep into the depths of his mind, fingers tingling with numbness as they toyed with the small, metal ball in his hand. It was covered in rivets, patterns melted into the surface. He had been kicked out of the lab for the day, his outbursts becoming more present with each passing moment. Their exact words were, go home, cool off. As if he was lava waiting to burst at the mouth of the volcano. 

Heavy feet drug across the solemn street, but they felt unbearable, as if his legs could give out at any moment. His face was still crimson, hot to the touch, and his teeth were still easing from their harsh grit. His body crashed against the nearest building, hands moving to hood at his jaw, eyes bulging with realization. 

          All day Raielyn had been fighting a headache, fighting telling people to fuck off, and fighting with people who didn’t seem to grasp the concept of no communication. As if she had everything to do with it and just didn’t want to tell them. She had no idea what was going on, all she knew was it was a puzzle that she couldn’t solve without more clues. Maybe someone would give something away, let something slip. For now she had to deal with the people. Her shift seemed almost three times the length it normally felt. With only ten minutes left in her shirt, Raielyn hoped it would go by quickly because she was about ready to scream. She knew she needed to have self control. Fake smile plastered on her face, she greeted the people nearby, looking at a stranger. “I have ten minutes left in my shift, but when it’s over, do you want to grab a drink? I’m about to pull my hair out. People suck, but I’d rather not go home.” 

Cain felt like a prisoner in a cage of his own making. He would never have expected that a sense of morality would catch up to him after all of these years, his sense of what was ‘right’ always being clouded with the ideals of duty and what he thought was loyalty, but joining the Council had completely thrown him through a loop. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that the reason he was so content to put his head down and be so obedient was because he was ignorant, and he wished every day that he could still feel safe behind that sense of innocence.

But he knew too much. What was worse, though, was the fact that everyone else was aware that he was in the know. He had a lot of rapport with a large number of people in New Colorado after serving as a guard for so many years, and he knew that they would want answers. Paranoia had begun to seep even deeper into his mind and as he left work that evening, he felt as though a hundred eyes were watching him even if he couldn’t see them. He hurried down the steps hanging his head low but he felt a presence nearby, and regardless of whether or not it was real, or whether or not it actually wanted to speak to him, his unruly state got the better of him and he snapped. “What do you want?”

The force behind his hand was minuscule compared to what it might have usually been, the rowdy kid within his grasp; the scruff of his jacket curled tightly within Kolt’s grip as he drew them far enough away from the gate that he wouldn’t have to worry about him getting past a second time. It was rough — maybe, a little bit, but the shove that cast him in the opposite direction and the lowly scowl that settled in on his features told him to beat it — or try again later, on someone elses shift. The last thing he wanted was some kid being caught up and landing himself in hot water with the council for trying to push boundaries, that wasn’t what they were about. “I swear, I’ve spent more time stopping people from doin’ dumb shit today than I have any other day.” Given, their freedom was being stripped away, what little of it they already had. “Tell ‘em they can’t, and it’s all they’ll wanna’ do.” He sighed roughly, arms crossing over his chest as he settled in against the heels of his boots. “You’re not gonna’ try it are you?”

Safiya had planted her feet in the vicinity of the gates, arms crossed and eyes never living the two big doors separating her from the Wilds. The hunter began wondering about what could have happened to cause the Council to take those types of measures —– had it been on the outside or on the inside? Safi drew in a long and sharp breath before she exhaled. Disembodied footsteps lured her out from within her own thoughts and, again, without thinking or even looking at who she was speaking to, the young woman finally broke her silence.

“What do you think happened?” Safiya asked, her longing gaze never leaving the closed gates.

At some point, Kaiden had adjusted to living on very little sleep. Between school and training for his future as a Guard, Kaiden hadn’t rested much as a teenager, and now that he was in his ‘proper’ occupation, Kaiden still hardly rested. Naturally, as a result, once he finished his night shift, Kaiden went wandering throughout New Colorado. First, he stopped at The Bar to get a poor quality meal and then he ended up in the market, admiring what the craftspeople had created. New Colorado had some amazingly talented people, he thought, smiling. When he stumbled across toques, Kaiden tried one on and turned to the person beside him. “What do you think? Does it suit me?” He asked lightly. Kaiden had always been social and he was the first to admit that he wasn’t always the most fashionable. As a Guard, a lot of his daily ensembles were chosen for him.

Sleep was a commodity. Cain couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to say he’d had a restful night, but it was becoming increasingly more rare for him to even enter his bedroom, let alone get some shut-eye. Usually he found himself waking up in his armchair or even at a desk in the Council’s headquarters, overworking himself to the point of exhaustion under no pressure but his own. 

That night was no exception. He had been disturbed by one of the cleaners at headquarters who had politely woken him to let him know it was getting late and that he’d fallen asleep after hours yet again. He was disoriented, his head fuzzy and his eyes aching with a desperation to close again but he managed to make it out of the building. With muscle memory leading him in the direction of home, Cain was entirely unaware of his surroundings as his broad shoulders clipped something roughly in his path, but it was only after a moment to process that he realised he’d walked directly into someone else. With a furrowed brow he slowly turned to them but his gaze seemed to go straight through their face in his state of fatigue, his voice barely louder than a murmur. “Sorry.”

Sitting forward in her seat, Dawson offered a friendly smile to her patient, giving them the paper for the prescription she had signed off on. It was nothing, just a simple cut but in their lives, a simple cut could turn infectious and then off their their arm. To prevent any kind of infection from the wound, Dawson prescribed antibiotics. “Take this three times a day after each meal. And please, make sure you eat before taking this; the stomach pains from not doing so will be treacherous and you will be on the floor in the fetal position crying,” she warned, as she warned every patient she’d prescribe the medicine to. “Also, keep the wound bandaged for a few days; I’d say after three days let it breathe and it should heal up nicely. You’ll have a scar but, what’s another scar to add to the collection, right?”

Lynx struts through their little city, combat-clad feet stomping down the streets as he slung his pack across his shoulder. It was barely after dawn, the rays of sunlight blinding, but the determination inside is brighter. His feet willed to keep going, but his eyes drifted to the side, feet immediately flooding through the door. Eyes scanned the area, hoping who he was looking for was already up. Finally catching their gaze, he gave a small sigh of relief.

One single drink was all that she needed to unwind; and even then, she didn’t even finish the already small glass. And even then, she never truly relaxed; her muscles were always either sore or tense, the only reality they’ve known consists of stress and being pushed to their limits. After paying for her drink, Safi stood up and looked around The Bar before putting on her dark jacket. Then she headed to the door as she sent a message to her father, letting him know she’d be home soon. 

As soon as she walks out the door, Safi looks both sides and her eyebrows furrow as she notices someone stopping dead on their tracks at the sight of her. Confused yet curious, Safiya started walking towards them before they turned around and walked away. The hunter shook her head, scoffing at what had just happened. Faint footsteps warrant a small comment. “Do I look that scary?” A question that begged for no answer. “What do you think is up with them?” Safiya asked, without even looking at the person she spoke to. 

Losing a patient was never great. Sometimes, though, there was nothing to be done. Sometimes the damage is too great, the blood loss too much, the fever too high… Sometimes it was just what happened. Sometimes all the science, education, training, medicine, all of it together just wasn’t enough. It was times like those that Doton was glad that she wasn’t so wrapped up in science to believe it infallible. She knew the other side of it – fate or chaos or whatever you wanted to call it when someone bled out on a canvas cot.

But it was never easy, and her supervisor had just sighed as he recorded the death, taken one look at her drawn face and sent her to “get some air.” Doton would be fine – she wouldn’t be able to be a nurse if she couldn’t handle losing a patient now and then. It was just still raw, fresh. So she found a bench a little ways off from the clinic in the open air and took a seat, running a hand through her tousled blonde hair. Letting out a sigh, Doton dropped her elbows to her knees and let her head hang a bit. She would be fine, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt for that moment.

he ordered the ‘special’. usually the food at the bar was good ( read: way better than anything he could knock up at home ), but this looked like a plate of… 

…well, something that might have been run over by a cart.  whether accidentally or possibly, on purpose to put the lumpy thing out of it’s veggie ridden misery, he’s not entirely sure.  and he’s not usually that skeptical ( food was food after all, and very rarely did it ever go to waste around moss ) - but this time he’s left wondering if the stores were as stocked as they should be.

there’s something of a creased brow as he studies the plate - opting instead to reach for the glass to one side - the first of his two allocated drinks for the day.  and he’s later here than usual, having lingered at the workshop to finish up some panel beating that had - eventually - produced a gleaming new scythe for one of the farm hands.  so he’s a little over worked.  and dusty.  and hungry.