Snippet #2660390

It was a lovely morning, really.

As sunlight rose above the horizon, stretching its fingers lazily across the ash, the world itself appeared to get painted a soft golden hue. The rubble, the corpses, those who made their homes within the Wastes, in favor of taking a chance and seeking shelter from the factions. Some of these residents scowled as the light rose, turning over and hiding their faces in an effort to get just a few more moments or rest. Some had opted to rise earlier than the day itself, taking the time to go through their supplies, make themselves a meal, ascertain that whoever made up their company hadn’t fled or died off in the middle of the night. There were the nomads who quickly made to leave their camp as soon as possible, the tribes certain enough in their strength to linger, and, even then, some who simply chose to stay in one place because it was the only best option at the moment.

Two of these latter groups, the grounded, soon found themselves disturbed by the sunlight, while the third, while untouched by any sort of natural glow beneath the earth, were made to rise by other factors. The first of this trio, from where they were in Hellton, had both early risers and night owls among its ranks, although many found themselves waking at the same time as many else- for a multitude of reasons. While a few might have chosen to prepare breakfast for the others, scrounging through their supplies to find enough proper ingredients, there were still several who busied themselves dealing with a more pressing matter.

Namely, the prisoner, who refused to speak whatsoever on the details of her “mission”.

Another group, residing in a far less...morbid setting than the former training facility, might find themselves waking up at far different times. The disgruntled hostess and her company (and her company’s plant) hardly knew each other for long enough to set up a proper schedule, after all, and it was doubtful that they really could. The third group, for the most part, were just as unpredictable- albeit for other reasons than a lack of cohesion. From where they were, deep beneath the ground, surrounded by propaganda of a time forgotten, they lay- stricken with illness, and left vulnerable.

Nevertheless, all within the wastes survived. This was very much their life, after all, and a life they had worked far too long to lose now.