exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date: May 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports arrive and are shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while those Transports on the mission to Wollongong return.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Also amongst the crowd is this person. It's clear from about a mile away that this person is not in a good mood. Everything, from her face being twisted into a distinct line, to the disgruntled manner in which she carries herself, betrays that a thousand times over.

Being approached in this manner? Certainly isn't going to help said mood.

So she'll simply stop, turn around, and glare.]

[ How terribly rude. ]

You don't want to stay here either, do you?

[It looks like most of what she needs to know about Katniss Everdeen has already been established in about 2.5 seconds!

In any case, she's not going to change her mind about engaging in this kind of rude behavior any time soon :') The expression on her face and the daggers she's glaring remain fairly constant.

Because who is this and what in the hell does that have to do with anything]

No one does.

[ She nods. Maybe this girl was raised on sour milk, or maybe her face was just stuck like that in some terrible horsing accident. At least she seemed to have some sense. ]

And that's why I'm going to leave.

[To say something like that with any kind of confidence is so ridiculous that it's almost comical. Or, at least it would be if this were a different world. If she were a different person.

Instead, though, the response is simply going to be the most obvious question, asked in the most derisive way possible.]

How?

They let us have weapons. There are no doors. They've not cut off my feet.

[ She squints. She hasn't really thought this out, but she's been on lots of quests. ]

It seems to me you never get anywhere unless you start going.