Post by Olive Quentin on Feb 21, 2013 14:04:55 GMT -5
Olive walked along the row of caravans, one hand on the strap of her quiver that was across her back, and the other at her hip, where her knife was sheathed in leather. The travellers here were traders and settlers, some bearing trailers of what they had brought with them, others pulling along battered suitcases that contained everything that they owned in the world. Olive’s situation was, if possible, more depressing still. Over her bow and quiver she carried a single rucksack that contained all her earthly belongings; a single change of clothes, fresh underwear, a radio that her brother had given her to get in touch with him, a few tins of food, some old dollars that had been phased out as legal tender some fifty miles back, and a small leather pouch of silver grams that would buy her a cup of coffee and a single night’s stay in sheltered digs. Which made her goal to find work even more pressing.
Olive had heard that before the fall, New York had been the centrepiece of the east coast. Populated by over four percent of the people of the US, travellers like her came from far and wide to see the great city. Only, the city wasn’t as great as it once was, and people like her, strictly speaking, were becoming a rare breed. On her travels, Olive had met more Vampires and Werewolves than she had ever met Humans in her entire life. It kinda put into perspective how rare her Human-only hometown was.
The procession walked through Outsider territory, and the guards who protected the newcomers had already killed a couple of Outsiders on the journey here. That wasn’t a job she fancied; she’d probably just get everybody killed on her first day. A few of the people Olive had spoken to said that they’d been hit by raiders before the convoy met them, and it made Olive wonder just how deadly the land around her had become. Man-eating plants and invaders from other realms weren’t enough, were they?
Olive turned and looked over her shoulder. They were nearly at the city now, but across the desert she could just make out the Angel fortress. What was it they called it again? Nami... Namor... Namas-something? Nameshty. Yes. That’s what it had sounded like. Olive had almost said, “bless you” before realising it wasn’t a sneeze.
They got to the borders of the city, and the single travellers were called to come to the front of the queue; it would take quicker to process single people with few belonging than it would to make sure entire caravans weren’t transporting explosives into the city. And of course the Werewolves had to be sorted from the Humans. There would be another trip at night, when the Vampires could travel over, but Olive had decided to come during the day. She felt safer that way.
It took all of two minutes to quickly frisk her for unsafe items – her bow and arrows and knife were accepted through the gate as hunting tools – and her bag was poked through before realising that there was nothing more volatile in there than the tin of pickled cabbage.
And then she was in, and before she knew it Olive was stood on the streets of the bustling city, wondering what she was mean to do now that she was here.
Olive had heard that before the fall, New York had been the centrepiece of the east coast. Populated by over four percent of the people of the US, travellers like her came from far and wide to see the great city. Only, the city wasn’t as great as it once was, and people like her, strictly speaking, were becoming a rare breed. On her travels, Olive had met more Vampires and Werewolves than she had ever met Humans in her entire life. It kinda put into perspective how rare her Human-only hometown was.
The procession walked through Outsider territory, and the guards who protected the newcomers had already killed a couple of Outsiders on the journey here. That wasn’t a job she fancied; she’d probably just get everybody killed on her first day. A few of the people Olive had spoken to said that they’d been hit by raiders before the convoy met them, and it made Olive wonder just how deadly the land around her had become. Man-eating plants and invaders from other realms weren’t enough, were they?
Olive turned and looked over her shoulder. They were nearly at the city now, but across the desert she could just make out the Angel fortress. What was it they called it again? Nami... Namor... Namas-something? Nameshty. Yes. That’s what it had sounded like. Olive had almost said, “bless you” before realising it wasn’t a sneeze.
They got to the borders of the city, and the single travellers were called to come to the front of the queue; it would take quicker to process single people with few belonging than it would to make sure entire caravans weren’t transporting explosives into the city. And of course the Werewolves had to be sorted from the Humans. There would be another trip at night, when the Vampires could travel over, but Olive had decided to come during the day. She felt safer that way.
It took all of two minutes to quickly frisk her for unsafe items – her bow and arrows and knife were accepted through the gate as hunting tools – and her bag was poked through before realising that there was nothing more volatile in there than the tin of pickled cabbage.
And then she was in, and before she knew it Olive was stood on the streets of the bustling city, wondering what she was mean to do now that she was here.