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Post by Daisy Bradford on February 20th 2014, 7:23 am

The queue went all the way from the little stall set up near the entrance to the first district, up the stairs and spilling partway into the second. People of all ages and ethnicities, rich and poor, all queued together. Because here they were all the same. Any wealth they had acquired back home meant nothing now, they were all in the same horrific circumstances. Refugees, the lot of them and no one standing in that line was there by choice, that much was certain. Everyone was stranded, and according to the locals who were doing their best to help them, it was the biggest influx of the lost and wearied they'd seen in years. Some were here because of the Heartless, others from some other new threat, but the fact remained that they numbered in the thousands... and it was more than the town could take. It was full, right to the brim and verging on breaking point. And they knew it, too. Tension was high, people were angry and confused, and no one wanted to be there. It had all the makings of a catastrophe, but nothing too drastic had happened just yet.

Partway through the line to get registered as an official refugee (and, more importantly, to get some well needed sustenance) was Daisy Bradford. Her long, blonde hair was wrangled into a messy bun, with thin wisps left free to frame her face. She was wearing a sleeveless black crop top and olive green shorts, the same ones she had been wearing when they arrived, and was fidgeting anxiously. She hated waiting. Whether it was her constant need to be on the go or something else, her energetic nature meant that being in a line for more than a minute was taxing... and this had taken hours. She wasn't mad, she knew it was no ones fault (in fact, she had assisted in similar aid situation back home, albeit never this big) but that didn't make it any easier to wait.

Twisting her hands into one another, the youth looked around to see if she could recognise anyone, for the twenty-something-th time. She had spoken to a few people since arriving, and she gave each of them a little smile whenever she made eye contact but... no one from home. She shook her head, where could they be? As far as she had gathered, this was the place that survivors ended up... so where was everyone? It never even crossed her mind, for she was far too innocent and perhaps more than a little naive, that no one else had survived.  They must've been somewhere, she thought, or perhaps her world wasn't even destroyed like she thought, that she had just ended up here by mistake and soon it would all be sorted out and she could go home.

A shove to her back broke her train of thought, and as she whipped around to see the cause her faint smile dropped into a frown. Someone a few places back was yelling, something about someone else cutting in, and it seemed like a fight was about to break out. There had been a lot of yelling and bickering since she'd gotten here, but not like this. It felt like they had reached the breaking point, and it was going to explode if nobody did anything. Luckily, Daisy was far from cowardly and used to diffusing these kinds of volatile situations, so it felt natural when she sprung forwards towards the conflict, fists tightly clenched.

"Hey!" She yelled, her youthful tone weighed down by authority, "what are you doing?" Bewilderment sparked within her as she gazed upon the scene, two men, around her age, gripping an older man by each arm while a third stood in front of him, yelling obscenities and looking like he was preparing to attack. They ignored her, as she might've expected, but she wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"I said," she moved between the aggressor and the victim, "what are you doing?"

"Get out of the way!" The man growled, snarling at her like one might expect of an animal.

"No." She replied, staring him dead in the eye. She wouldn't back down, not when they were being so unnecessarily violent. Sure, she didn't know what had happened, but no one deserved this. She knew the situation was bringing out the worst in everyone, but that didn't justify anything.

The man made a move to get past her, but she swiftly jabbed both her arms forward, shoving him in the chest and forcing him to take a few steps back. She wasn't strong by any accounts, but gave it enough force to knock him around a little. He glared at her, and made a move to come at her again, when another man from the line, one much bigger than she was, moved in next to her. The attacker hesitated then, glancing towards his accomplices before spitting at her feet, turning to walk away slowly - he knew people would help her, a pretty young girl, before they would the old man he was going for before. She was breathing heavily, visibly shocked by what had just happened, but not injured in the slightest. She was brave, sure, had even done things like this back home but still she surprised herself. Whether it was bravery or stupidity for a girl as small as she to stand up to someone like that she wasn't sure, all she knew was that she had to do what she thought was right.

She turned back around, then, to the older gentleman who had fallen to his backside when the other two had let him go. She crouched down beside him, as everyone else around simply watched in silence, looking at a graze on his cheek and asking if he was okay. It was quite the spectacle, really, this minuscule girl attending to a man whose life she had potentially just saved, while everyone else merely watched. He told her that he couldn't walk, that his legs always cramped up when he was stressed, from some accident long ago, so she looked around once more.

"Can anyone help me carry him?"
Daisy Bradford
Daisy Bradford

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Post by Oliver Daunt on February 20th 2014, 4:06 pm

"No...no, no, no." Oliver panicked, sticking his hands deep inside his afro, holding his head. Where was he? He paced about, looking amongst all the people in the district. Apparently, there had been quite a few tragedies amongst other worlds and refugees were sent here, but why was he here?

His memory was fuzzy, as he was disoriented, but he was sure he was in his garage, trying to unstrap The Argo. Was he, for some reason he couldn't remember, successful in escaping? No, that couldn't be it. Well, technically, he did escape but he wasn't successful. Why was he transported here? Was it something he pressed or? He was unsure, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to find his ship.

As he noticed the line, he couldn't be bothered waiting. Why wait when he wasn't looking for their help? He just needed to know if they had his ship. If they did, he'd take it, regardless of whatever rules and regulations the rest of these sheep chose to follow. He'd get what was his and he would leave, finally starting the adventure his adolescence had prevented.

As he walked pass all the people, he received glares from almost everyone. They assumed he was going to skip, which was true, but he wouldn't be taking their resources or whatever the line was for. He didn't even want to stay in this world. What was the point of being a refugee if you didn't take the opportunity to see what the universe had to offer you?

Are these people sick? He thought, as he walked about. Most of them were much paler than him and their hair was stringier than what was normal for the humans of Lacuna. Many they were diseased or something of the sort. His Sky Blue eyes were also a tad bit unique. At least, they weren't as common among these adults who seemed to have an arrangement of different colors. Was this a different system based on jobs opposed to what stage of life they were on? If so, it was inefficient.

As he continued, a man grabbed his shoulder, wrinkling his burgundy shirt. Oliver turned around, innocently enough and said, "Out with it." It was light hearted enough and his hand moved in a circular motion, showing that he wanted the man to say what he wanted. It was a bit rude, but he was a bit rude, so.

"You can't cut the line."

"I'm not?"

"Yeah, you are. You're heading to the front. I'm not stupid."

"I just need to know if they have my ship. If they do or don't, I'm gone. I don't need whateve--"

"Did you give them your ship?"

"Uh, no?"

"Then why would they have it?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Like the rest of us," He began slowly, explaining it to the seemingly dense adventurer, "You only have what you brought on your back." He finished, letting go of The Argonaut's shoulder. The man he assumed he was still in shock or didn't know what was going on. And judging by his ignorance and how he was here alone, the man had assumed no one else had survived from Lacuna.

"Delightful." Oliver replied, annoyed. He straightened his shirt, tie, and adjusted his vest before heading away from the line. To think, he had to walk back and coordinate a new plan. If his ship wasn't here then it was still on the planet...or the planet's debris. Oh, no. His beautiful ship was probably floating in space. It was likely damaged and, for all he knew, it was out of commission.

Rubbing his eyes, he groaned. It was only disrupted by the event that was taking place before him. A man cutting, likely having gotten the idea from Oliver when he passed by here, a valiant girl playing the hero and then a large man giving her support, effectively scaring off the other. As she asked for help, he realized that no one would else would be able to. They were all refugees and likely had their own family to care for. And if they didn't, they likely wanted to be taken care of by this world. I have to do everything, don't I?

He walked over to her and with an awkward wave he introduced himself. "Oliver." With a slight pause, he would go down and help her pick up the man. "Where is he going?" He asked either, having been too caught up in his own annoyances to be overly observant of the event. He might've missed some context clues. He knew he was hurt, but was there a place to take him?

Oliver Daunt
Oliver Daunt

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