Safety in numbers, Karolina
Oct. 27th, 2008 11:08 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsHarmony is in short supply and so is Karolina's patience.
Someone had stolen her phone. Along with her wallet, her purse and her vegan shoes that had cost her three allowances (she told her friends they'd been part of an all out shopping spree.) When the tensions in the evacuation center between mutant and non-mutant had escalated that first night, she'd ducked outside with her overnight bag but had forgotten her purse. It was long gone by the time she got back inside. The thought that someone would surely come for her soon consoled her for a time, enough to get some fitful sleep--that's when she'd lost her shoes. Upon waking, she remembered that no one knew where she was or even that she was missing.
The second day in the shelter had resulted in an all out stand-off between humans and mutants and Karolina had never been so terrified as when she faced a man built like Dwayne Johnson (except not as nice) and been forced to grab what little was left of her possessions and stumble out into the cold, grey rain. The green woman in the business suit had taken charge, muttering under her breath about lawsuits, and took the group of 15 obvious mutants on a quest to find new lodging.
After six hours of walking, no one found the bleak 'no room at the inn' joke very funny, least of all Karolina who had been trying for about the same amount of time to convince the whole group that they wanted to head north to Westchester. Announcing that she was going without them had done precisely nothing except land her a motherly sort as a bodyguard. Not a single one of the small troop was willing to let a 16 year old girl fly 60 miles in this kind of weather, no matter how many different ways she told them that she'd done it a million times. Just a little longer, they told her. Everything would be okay soon.
It would surprise her classmates to know that not once in this whole mess had she told anyone who her parents were. It was a security measure--one drilled into since long before her skin began to shimmer with its gentle rainbow of color--being her parents' daughter was not a privilege; it was a risk.
Day three, Karolina's temper finally gave out. "I need to go home. They don't know where I am," Karolina explained for the hundredth time and sneezed. She was tired, she was wet and she was hungry--the last time there had been something that she could eat was 12 hours ago: a packet of airline peanuts dug out of someone's purse, long forgotten--she was whining at this point and didn't care.
No amount of arguing could change her mind and when someone attempted to grab her, she flared out her aura into a hard shell, sobbing the whole time. "No more. I'm going home."
She left a bright rainbow in the otherwise dingy sky as she fled.
Someone had stolen her phone. Along with her wallet, her purse and her vegan shoes that had cost her three allowances (she told her friends they'd been part of an all out shopping spree.) When the tensions in the evacuation center between mutant and non-mutant had escalated that first night, she'd ducked outside with her overnight bag but had forgotten her purse. It was long gone by the time she got back inside. The thought that someone would surely come for her soon consoled her for a time, enough to get some fitful sleep--that's when she'd lost her shoes. Upon waking, she remembered that no one knew where she was or even that she was missing.
The second day in the shelter had resulted in an all out stand-off between humans and mutants and Karolina had never been so terrified as when she faced a man built like Dwayne Johnson (except not as nice) and been forced to grab what little was left of her possessions and stumble out into the cold, grey rain. The green woman in the business suit had taken charge, muttering under her breath about lawsuits, and took the group of 15 obvious mutants on a quest to find new lodging.
After six hours of walking, no one found the bleak 'no room at the inn' joke very funny, least of all Karolina who had been trying for about the same amount of time to convince the whole group that they wanted to head north to Westchester. Announcing that she was going without them had done precisely nothing except land her a motherly sort as a bodyguard. Not a single one of the small troop was willing to let a 16 year old girl fly 60 miles in this kind of weather, no matter how many different ways she told them that she'd done it a million times. Just a little longer, they told her. Everything would be okay soon.
It would surprise her classmates to know that not once in this whole mess had she told anyone who her parents were. It was a security measure--one drilled into since long before her skin began to shimmer with its gentle rainbow of color--being her parents' daughter was not a privilege; it was a risk.
Day three, Karolina's temper finally gave out. "I need to go home. They don't know where I am," Karolina explained for the hundredth time and sneezed. She was tired, she was wet and she was hungry--the last time there had been something that she could eat was 12 hours ago: a packet of airline peanuts dug out of someone's purse, long forgotten--she was whining at this point and didn't care.
No amount of arguing could change her mind and when someone attempted to grab her, she flared out her aura into a hard shell, sobbing the whole time. "No more. I'm going home."
She left a bright rainbow in the otherwise dingy sky as she fled.
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