Futuristic 𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮 〄 pomme & solarsaphia

[pomme]

// andromeda //

 

[pomme]

andromeda fields, west edge

"am i actually in a fever dream right now?"

plain pants and a tank top, both grey

solarsaphia

Sloane's favorite part of her life, amongst all the candied desserts and solstice parties, was helping with the monthly harvests. There was a quiet beauty in it, to her, seeing all the faces she knew by name under seas of bobbing hats and sitting between rows of vibrant vegetables. Sometimes, she'd leave right after dawn, just for those small hours where she could sit alone and sneak a few of the sweet fruits for herself.

And, as she tucked her hair back and slipped into the worn flats she'd had for years, the sun just barely creeping over the horizon, the only thought on her mind was the upcoming harvest. A small smile crept on her face as she padded silently through the narrow halls of her family's house, the door quiet as she cracked it open and slipped out. Sure, it wasn't the kind of good that would've warranted a pleased smile from her parents or a smiling nod from her mentor, but it was a tradition.

As the door clicked below her, she basked in the air, the rich smell of honey and wildflowers paired with the heavy cobalt that painted everything in swaths. She'd barely made it more than a few steps before a hand gently tapped her shoulder, making her jump. But when she whirled around, the face that met her was one bearing a wide grin and toting a small basket at his side. "You scared me, Maddox," she grinned, grabbing his elbow and starting off down the winding path, stones crunching under their feet as they ran. Soon, the swaying birches grew thinner, bright rows of orange and red and every hue in between peeking through the leaves. She could feel him beaming besides her as they stopped, the virgin sunlight glinting off the lush rows of carefully groomed crops.

It was this, the mottled patchwork of brilliant colors, that bordered Andromeda, the sea of woods past one that was always a world away. "Come on," he laughed, already starting down the green hill that sloped into the crop valleys. "We gotta get the best of the raspberries before the others get here."

The sun grew warm and golden on their backs as the basket filled and emptied, their lips pinkened with the saccharine juice of ripe fruits and eyes happy. The fields filled with others, the air smiling with happy din and cheerful calls and laughter. Maddox and Sloane wove their way through the multicolored motley of rows, finally coming to a stop at the edge. Her chest heaved with the dregs of fleeting laughter as she lowered onto the warm ground, the sunrise painting her face in a golden halo. Lilted birdsong chimed through the air, twirling with the sound of rustling crops to form the soft melody she'd grown used to. He sat next to her, her gaze hovering on the pale emerald of the forest's tall oaks.

"I can't be the only one who's wondered how big that forest is," she laughed, turning to him and watching a smirk grow on his face.

But his reply fell away as she stared on, stumbling to her feet, her eyes widening at the smallest movement. It was gentle, tiny, so slight she almost thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. But then there it was again, a shift in the brush. Snap. She whirled around to Maddox, and from the deep something welling in his widened eyes, she knew he heard it too. They were just a few hundred paces away from the edge of the gnarled trees, but suddenly it felt far too close. She stumbled back as he grabbed her wrist, her eyes staying locked on the branches that swayed more with each passing second. Footsteps.

She tore her wrist from his grip, feeling him still behind her. The sound of her heart, beating in a sickening trance, was loud in her ears, her cheeks paling.

There was a person.

The woods, this uncrossable sea, was alive. And, as she stared, there were more, dressed in clothes she'd never seen before, faces she'd never seen before. It took her breath away. Even their hair—oh, their hair—was a brilliantly unique mismatch. She saw shining blondes, ravens that seemed to suck the light from the very air: and it was stunning. She could hear Maddox behind her, yelling her name, but suddenly even he felt so mundane. His shouts as he called for others felt impossibly far, the same way the thought of the sickness they carried barely reached the back of her mind. This, this was special, and everything inside her screamed it.

For once, there was something new.

sloane emrys

 

[solarsaphia]

melodic.

MOOD: finally.
LOCATION: andromeda fields, west edge.
OUTFIT: here + a backpack.
TAGS: pomme

During his years in the wasteland, Quinn had come to appreciate the wind. It seemed mundane, but a breath of air could mean the difference between life and death, cooling his blood-flushed cheeks just enough to let him see another day. And god, could it get hot out there. He’d seen dozens die from it. Plutonium and radon littered towering piles of scrap, just depleted enough to be useless to a city, and they radiated suffocating heat like no other.

It was a fiery world out there, which made it all the more surprising when a blast of ice-cold air hit him in the face.

Quinn hadn’t been exploring when he found the city. He wasn’t the type to go out alone without cause, too anxious to face the uncertainties of the wasteland on his own. It was the circumstances that had brought Andromeda to him, tugging him like a spool of red thread as he stumbled over cracked rubble, desperate to get back to his group. An earthquake by the dried-up riverbed had left them divided. Charcoal-black trees had surrounded his stranded group like a mockery of night, driving his mind to whirl into a frenzy, his breath shuddering until in an instant, it was caught in his throat.

He was staring at a tunnel, about three feet wide and twice as tall. The wind was blowing in his face, chilly and sharp. It was like nothing he had seen before in his life— that is, of course, that he could remember. Ciyelo was nothing but a distant dream to him. He traced his fingers along the edge, eyes blown wide with some strange mix of fear and reverence.

His feet carried him before his brain could think any better of it. Quinn jogged along the length of the tunnel at an uneven pace, marveling at how his sneakers left sharp outlines of dirt on the metal floor. It was spotless. He was about to bend down to take a closer look at the iridescent lines tracing the walls when he heard voices, calling out from where he had come. Right.

“You guys, in here!” Quinn called out, his voice echoing out like a bell. Hugo, tall but with a sickly sort of concave to his natural bulk, came first, looking panicked as he stared up at the structure surrounding them. Phoebe, a girl with choppy black hair, came afterward, her knife kept in a vice-like grip. Two others brought up the end, neatly rounding out the five he had been left with.

Pheobe stalked towards him, looking distinctly pissed-off. “The hell are you doing?” She gestured back to the ashy trails behind them. “We need to get back before night falls.”

But Quinn was already shaking his head, more excited than he had been in years. “This is manmade, Bea. Look. There’s civilization— or, well, there’s something. We have to check it out, or else we won’t be able to find it again.” It was true. There were no maps in the wasteland, no satellite dishes scanning the landscape from orbit. What navigation they could muster was nothing but hasty directions scribbled in charcoal, useless except with memory’s aid.

He turned back to the tunnel ahead. Was there something there? He couldn’t see through the dense thicket of trees, but he swore he could hear the lilt of some faint tune filtering through. Music, maybe, but it was difficult to hear over the buzz of the breeze.

“Come with me or don’t. I’m done waiting for a miracle." Quinn took off down the metal pathway, barely paying attention to the others following in his path.

He hopped over the lip of the tunnel’s end, shielding his eyes against the too-bright sun as they began walking through the clearing. Hadn’t it been overcast before? There was a scent of acrid cleanliness in the air, like the sting of ice-cold water that his mother would pour over his wounds after a particularly nasty fight. The air around him was practically frigid compared to the crater-ridden hellscape they had come. Quinn found himself shivering, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders.

The forest seemed endless, but he could hear the lilted tones— voices, he realized now— getting louder. People were talking, laughter floating like clouds in the summertime.

“Stay quiet,” Phoebe mumbled to the rest of the group, and Quinn pressed his lips together like a vise. The scene seemed surreal, but he knew every dream was only one wrong move away from crumbling into a nightmare. Leaning forward, he narrowed his eyes at the clearing. He could just barely see the outline of a figure behind the brush, turned directly towards where he was standing.

Crunch.

A stick shifted beneath his feet. He could practically feel the look the others were giving him right now.

Gritting his teeth, Quinn bit the bullet, stepping forward until he had fully emerged from the forest. There was a girl there, pale and bright-eyed. She looked like she had fallen straight from the skies— and no, not in a cheesy way. Her skin was smooth, almost eerily unblemished, and she had this unbridled look of awe that was reflected in his expression.

Something old; something new. Maybe this was a miracle, after all.

“Hey,” He said, voice hoarse with surprise. The greeting felt so inadequate, like asking a galaxy what it had for dinner, but he couldn’t muster the words to articulate the nebulous reality of what was happening. “Are you guys, uh… from around here?”

Anna snickered. “Real smooth, Romeo.” Phoebe elbowed the blonde in the side, scowling. She still had a knife in her hand, and the rest of the group had prepared for confrontation, armed with baseball bats and lighters if worst came to worst.

code by low fidelity.

 

[pomme]

west edge, towards city center

so this must be euphoria -> ouch, i've never been tackled before

plain pants and a tank top, both grey

solarsaphia

From the bedtime stories of their founders and their horrors, Sloane had always imagined that she would be brave in the face of sheer, utter terror.

But now, as she stared at the group before her, eyes wide and completely alone, she felt more like a child.

Whenever she'd imagined people from the outside, she'd seen big dinners with warm meat and a blazing fire, not a lineup of weapons who only looked less intimidating than the expressions of some who held them. That wonderstruck amazement, the fluttering feel in her stomach, was starting to tinge with fear, her muscles too shocked to move. Her lips hung open, words barely having the time to form in her mind before the dissipated. What was the appropriate way to welcome something that never existed?

Before she could get any words out, good or otherwise, a shrill cry pierced her ears, the blare of the alarm one she'd only heard over recordings in school. Taught to recognize, to run. She could feel the dread in her stomach ebbing and flowing, fighting viciously against the curiosity that lit every inch of her. Staying wasn't just paralysis anymore. It was a choice.

Her breaths quick in her chest, she grabbed the neck of her shirt, pulling it up over her mouth and nose. Even still the thought of the disease felt hazy, but instinct began to take over as seconds passed by. She took a careful step back, her gaze sticking firmly to the glinting blade in one of the woman's clutched hand. Her hands shook as she rose one up in a sign of tentative peace, the other still covering the bottom half of her face under white knuckles.

The forces that fought over her felt like they were tearing her apart. She knew that she could run, lose the newcomers in less than a minute. This was her ground, and as she stood, bared flat for the foreign eyes to see, something deep inside her wanted to protect it. But they were somehow even more magnetic, the way they looked fearless and bewildered at the same time. It was like she was suspended, floating over it all, seeing everything from new eyes—because, for once, there was something new. Each second felt like a lifetime, one filled with experiences that weren't hers and places dangerous and far away. She could see it in their faces, in the scars that littered them. This, whatever Andromeda was, it was something they hadn't seen before.

At first, she could barely hear it over the pulsing sound of the siren, but one of them was talking. For a moment, his voice was a song, so stunning and real and new that she could barely even hear the words it carried. Are you guys from around here? The question felt like a promise, and she smiled from under her lifted shift, her eyes quivering to match.

"Yeah," she called, her voice airy in a way that wasn't hers. "yeah, we are." For a moment, she let her makeshift mask fall, flashing a wan smile before lifting it back up. "I need you to stay here, alright? Don't come any closer."

She couldn't get another word out before someone slammed into her from behind, taking her tumbling down to the ground and knocking the air out of her in a harsh grunt. Pairs of gloved hands tore her up, the side of her face stinging, the red blossoming on her cheek brushed with flecks of dirt.

She twisted her neck back, met with a team of figures all clad in the stark obsidian hazmat suits she'd only ever seen locked behind the door in the infirmary she'd never been allowed behind. Even their faces were obscured behind the panes of tinted glass, several more racing past her towards the group of newcomers. The batons at their side glinted in the sunlight, her arms falling limp as they dragged her back. "Don't worry, Sloane," a familiar yet muffled voice called from behind one of the helmets. "We'll be getting you to decontamination immediately. Thank you for protecting yourself. You've likely not been exposed."

"Dr. Abbot?" she murmured, the cool facade over the voice of her mentor barely masking something redder beneath.

"Yes, Sloane, it's me. Shhh, now. You must be tired." Her head spun as he looped his arms under her, only catching a last glance of the ring of black closing in on the group before she was carried away.

sloane emrys

 

[solarsaphia]

melodic.

MOOD: what the hell is happening
LOCATION: andromeda fields, west edge.
OUTFIT: here + a backpack.
TAGS: pomme

There was panic in the girl’s eyes even before the alarm rang out, and Quinn felt a cold spike of dread drill through his stomach. He parted his lips, but the words swarming his mind dried upon his tongue, and he took a few clumsy steps back from where she was standing. Was something wrong? The dreamlike trance of the field had taken a sharp turn to the left, and he had the sudden impression that he was looking at a broken mosaic, the fragile facade fraying at the edges like a worn tapestry.

Quinn was no optimist, but he had always thought finding a city would have been benign. Some stupid, childish part of him had thought the running couldn’t go on forever, that the jackrabbit pace of his heartbeat when he had drawn near was no more than paranoia.

His limbs were stiff as he watched the girl get flung to the ground, her gentle features (why did they all look so young?) disappearing behind a cloud of people like none he had seen before. They were dressed head to toe in suits of dark plastic, their faces obscured by translucent material, and there was something strapped to their sides, nearly obscured by the lack of color contrast.

“They’re armed!” Phoebe hissed, completing his thought for him. “Goddammit. What did you get us into, Alexander?”

Quinn shook his head, biting his lip to draw back the words to his tongue. “I-” He heaved in a breath, lightheaded with how quickly reality had turned on its axis. He had no idea what was happening, and that was the problem. Quinn liked knowing the truth. His observant nature was what he prided himself in, and he was quickly coming to realize this situation was bringing with it a new host of uncertainties. “Is this a lockdown?”

“Dunno. Doesn’t seem like they like newcomers,” Anna shot back, glancing uneasily between the girl on the ground and the oncoming hazmat nightmares. “Are we gonna fight this one out? Because I’m down and all, but there’s a lot more of us then there are of them.”

Quinn could feel the gazes on him, expectant. He had grown used to people relying on him, be it because he was older or because he had survived what most hadn’t. “Let’s stand our ground. Try and figure out what’s going on.”

He pulled out his pistol from where it had been resting in his back pocket. Few managed to get their hands on a gun out in the wasteland, and fewer could keep them. His had been a gift from his mother- a last-ditch effort at keeping her youngest safe when she was dying of radiation sickness. He had sworn to himself that day he would never let anyone else get their hands on it, and that he would never use it unless necessary. Violence was a necessary evil, not a game.

“Stay where you are!” Quinn called out, mirroring what the girl had said to him earlier. He trained his pistol on the ones approaching. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, erratic and fearful. “We’re not here to harm anyone. Tell us what’s going on and we’ll talk, alright?”

code by low fidelity.

 

[pomme]

the infirmary, the fields

terrified but also head goes brr

plain pants and a tank top, both grey

solarsaphia

As she dazedly watched the fields pass by, each view one bobbing with the careful gait of the man she'd spent hours working side by side with, Sloane couldn't shake the growing apprehension writhing in her gut. Her heartbeat only quickened when they reached the hills that lead into the city, Dr. Abbot placing her down and looping an arm under her shoulders.

Even through the thick helmet of the suit, she could hear the anger in his gasping breaths. "I know that you've been spending time in the lab, Sloane," he said, the searing undercurrent in his voice one that made her want to cower. "but this is something out of your range. I hope you won't prove that you need to be reassigned."

The blood drained from her cheeks at the words, her stomach twisting further at the thought. "Of course not, Dr. Abbot." Her throat ached as she spoke, ripples of the harsh fall chasing her as they started off inside the city. The silence that floated around them was palpable, her unease only strengthening as the group passed by the clinic without even giving it a second glance. Nobody ever went to the infirmary—she'd only ever seen it used for research—unless it was bad.

By the time they climbed the pristine, spiraling steps that arched the hill to reach it, she trembled with each step. A waft of heavy air hit her as soon as they walked in, the taste of sterile disinfectant heavy on her tongue. The three others who'd flanked her quickly dispersed, leaving her alone with her mentor as he led her onto one of the narrow cots.

The helmet clicked hollowly as he took it off, strands of ruffled hair falling over his smooth cheeks as he sighed. Even with the 47 years under his belt he looked almost like a brother to Sloane, the corners of his eyes untouched by wrinkles and his smile fresh. His gaze softened at the confusion on her face, crossing to one of the supply cabinets and slipping off his gloves. "If you'd been exposed, it would've shown by now." When he turned a thin needle glinted in his grip, prompting a slight frown from Sloane.

"Do I really need an IV if I'm not sick?"

"No harm in it." She held her breath as he made his way back to her side, baring her arm and turning away as he poised the needle over her skin.

​

Back in the fields, the sun danced wickedly across the backs of the row of obsidian-clad guards. Their approach came to a quick stop when one of the foreigners, his eyes fierce, brandished a pistol that all of them had only seen in history books. The figure in the middle thrust out her arms, stepping forward as the others behind her stilled.

"Not here to harm anyone?" A male voice murmured to her, his hand edging towards the weapon holstered at his side.

"Don't fuck this up for me, Alexander." She raised her arms in careful surrender, nudging him backwards. 80 paces, she estimated. Should be enough.

"And we're not looking to hurt you either," she called, taking off her helmet to reveal a pure-faced grin. "But please, we too ask that you don't get any closer."

"What are you doing, June?" Alexander hissed from behind her, putting a warning hand on her shoulder. "You can't infect them." She shoved it off, only giving him a disdainful glance before putting the grin back on.

"It's a bit hard to believe, but we have good reason to think that you carry a disease that could harm our people." June paused, taking a deep breath. "But we want to give you shelter here. Please, let us bring you to our medical facility. There are things we have to work out, but we have technology here that will make assimilation easy.

"It's just up this hill," she gestured, looking back at the fields. "We've been instructed to escort you there." With those words, she stepped back, shrugging the helmet back on.

"The old quarantine wards aren't exactly a 'medical facility', but if you say so," he muttered.

"Abbot was with the team that took Sloane back. They'll be prepping them immediately."

He shouldered her playfully, glancing back at the group one last time. "'Assimilation'. You really are selling this great."

She grinned from underneath the helmet, giving the group a small wave and waiting for their response. "You always were the better liar."

sloane emrys

 

[solarsaphia]

quinn alexander

x

x

x

mood = melancholy but also pls don't baton me.
location = andromeda fields, west edge.
outfit = here + a backpack.
tags = pomme .

Over the top of his pistol’s rusty barrel, the guards jolted to a halt, but Quinn’s stance didn’t relax. He was too accustomed to the intricacy of conflict to let his guard down. His head spun with the implications of her statement. A disease, one that had yet to kill any of them, but was somehow deadly to these people within. It seemed impossible.

“Assimilation?” Hugo whispered, his gaze flickering in between the obsidian-clad approachers and the rest of the group. “I can’t-” He broke off. “My sister is on the other side of the canyon. Quinn, I can’t just leave her.”

Hugo was right. Though Quinn was one of the many survivors that had no real family left to go back to, most were unable to resist the urge to pick their loyalties, too inexplicably human to cut their chains of heart. It showed in the shift of their feet as they watched him, the way they gripped too tightly to their weapons. And wasn’t he the same? The pistol he held was useless against a wave of armed attackers, yet he brandished it like he would a nuclear bomb, the weight of his mother’s love giving him the strength to resist.

They make their own decisions, Quinn concluded solemnly. If he was to die on some cat-and-mouse chase for a better future, then he had to be willing to do so alone.

He squared his shoulders, letting the pistol drop down to his side, and turned back to the people- the survivors- he had dragged along with him. An unwelcome twist of guilt settled in his stomach. “I’m going to go in. Leave if you want to.” He deflated, the cavalry awaiting them hovering in his peripheral vision. “I know you guys have people to go back to.”

There was a moment of silence before Hugo stepped back, nodding at Quinn as he disappeared into the forest path. Phoebe huffed, her hands twitching around where they were grasped at her baseball bat, before tucking the weapon in her backpack. “Don’t be an idiot,” She warned him as she left, leaving a bitter tang of absence in the air. Rio, a curly-haired person with a lighter and a notebook, remained, shuffling closer to Anna’s side as the two of them watched the guards.

And then there were three. He couldn’t help the rush of fear he felt standing there, at the mercy of a group he knew nothing about. Quinn exhaled, gripping the pistol tighter for a moment before raising his right hand and slowly, clearly dropping it to the ground. “There,” He called out. “Happy?”

“Are you mad?” Anna sibilated, her British accent hanging heavier over her words in her panic.

“There weren’t any bullets in it.” He whispered back.

Ignoring the startled snort the admission drew out of Anna, Quinn smiled politely at the guards, the expression feeling unnatural on his sun-cracked lips. “Now, if you’ll do the same and drop your weapons-” He pointed to the batons they held. “We’ll be happy to come with you.”

coded by solarsaphia.

 

[pomme]

the infirmary, the wards

i've never really lied before + new people!

plain pants and a tank top, both grey

solarsaphia

It would be a lie to say that June was pleased when, after some murmuring, the group started thinning down. She could feel the team rustling behind her, unease heavy in the air, but nobody would move until she did. "You don't think we're just letting them go, are we?" She said quietly, stopping Alexander's words before they could breach his lips. "We know they exist, so that's enough for now. And either way, we need to keep things as friendly as possible." Her eyes raked over those remaining: what looked like the group's leader, a blonde, and a figure with curls as wild as they were.

A happy sigh left her chest when the leader tossed his gun aside. "And drinks on me for all of you if the rest don't come back on their own." Even from across the field, she could see the uncanny shine in the man's eyes as he told them to drop their weapons.

"Of course," she called, the words both for them and the rows behind her. Hollow clicks broke the air as they all unhooked their batons, the black metal glinting against the grass as they put them down. "Right with us, then." Her breaths were light and quick in her chest as they cautiously started towards the city. The air was palpably heavy around them, but the tightness in her chest felt something more like victory.

They'd be led through the city's bright paths, what would usually be lively squares filled with laughing families and playing children devoid of life. It was almost a different Andromeda, seeing everything without the familiar sheen of life over it. Even the flowerbeds lining the paths seemed to sway differently in the air, something somber in the air that none of them had felt before.

The city's quarantine wards were almost more of a myth than a reality. On the rare days where anyone fell sick, they'd just be taken to the infirmary—there was never anybody there to spread it to—and anyone they might've infected along the way would be back to healthy within a few hours. But this was undeniably different. Even June, with the merit of the gold pins that shone under her suit, couldn't ignore the tinge of fear that bled into everything.

They walked the same stairs that led to the infirmary, yet the tall doors of the place went untouched. Instead, the group was led around its side, the path less of a path and more the whispers of footsteps from long ago. The side of the building was covered in bright rows of tall windows, their stop sharply marked by one solitary door. It's hinges shined with rust, looking almost more like the entrance to a supply closet. The rest of the guards stopped abruptly when they neared it, only June stepping forwards. Her fingers tapped out a brief dance on the faded keypad, a chime ringing out as she lowered her eye to the scanner and it was approved.

With a hiss, the door creaked open, the room inside a friendly contrast to the door's appearance. The walls stretched impossibly far upwards, the light inside the room warm and blinding bright at the same time. Bunk beds lined the walls, pillows and soft blankets on the collecting dust. By any means, it was nice, the rugs spread across the floors and candles on each nightstand giving it a warm front. But everything was just barely askew, fingerprints breaking the dust on everything where they'd clearly just been moved.

June briskly walked forwards, waving as she saw the team that had been hastily trying to dust everything off. "Thanks," she smiled, catching the set of keys one tossed at her as they made their way out. They'd been standing in front of another door, the room past it sterile white and filled with racks of glinting needles and IV bags.

She slammed it shut.

"Apologies for the hasty preparations," she said with an airy laugh, stepping back out. "As you probably guessed, we weren't expecting you." The lightness in her voice wasn't comforting, even to her. "No doubt you still have some questions, so be assured that we'll have some of our more knowledgeable people in here to speak with you shortly. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable." With that, the guards filed out of the room, June giving them one final wave before she stepped out and relocked the door.

The group from earlier that had been assigned to prepare the room was waiting for them. One woman clicked her helmet off, taking a sigh of relief and shaking her hair out. "The vents are still functional."

"And the Sevoflurane isn't degraded?"

She shrugged, the group starting off down the path. "It's good enough. I figure if we have to knock them out, we'll be desperate enough not to worry about it."

​

Sloane had just finished plastering the band-aid over her elbow when June and Molly walked in. Quietly, she slipped off the bed, trying get closer without drawing attention to herself. She'd expected June and her guards from the moment she saw the newcomers, but not Molly. The only times she saw the woman were during lunch breaks on days she trained in the lab. She has very important work to do, Sloane, Dr. Abbot had always told her. She was Andromeda's only chemical engineer. And why is she in a suit?

The apprehension that started in her gut was curious. It wasn't anything conscious, anything she could put into words, but it urged her to get closer.

She could barely hear them start to talk, Abbot's brows arching upwards. Not close enough. Carefully, she stepped out, walking over to the cabinets across from them. "Good morning, Molly," she smiled weakly, opening the cabinet and scanning through it's contents. "The back beds are out of some stuff," she offered to Abbot, her breath catching as he turned away, satisfied with her answer.

Lying wasn't something she did, yet it had been as easy and natural as breathing. As her hands clumsily ran over bottles, picking them out at random, she felt sick. There was no reason she should be lying. Abbot and Molly, even June, were all people she knew like family. She knew she could just ask, but something inside her chimed resistance. It whispered in rushes of adrenaline that she couldn't. That she needed to know what they were saying.

It made her lie, and she hated it.

Even from her spot close to them, their murmurs were almost inaudible. "The Sevoflurane's still good?" The corners of her lips dipped downwards. The name was unfamiliar. She briefly glanced backwards, glimpsing the women nodding.

"I'll be going in then." The apprehension that bled into his voice only made the nausea in her gut strengthen. "I'll bring Daniel and Lily too."

The hot guilt that wracked Sloane was overwhelming. She slammed the cabinet shut, wincing at the sound. She barely had enough will in her to give the trio an apologetic smile, her hands shaky around the bottles as she walked off. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire as she set them down on one of the cots, tucking them in the cabinets behind it right next to the brand new sets that already sat there. The sound of the door chiming with them leaving gave her no relief, Dr. Abbot's footsteps getting louder as he walked towards her.

"Are you alright, Sloane?" His brow furrowed as she turned around, the blood draining from her cheeks. She shoved her trembling hands in her pockets, trying to smile wide enough to stop her eyes from twitching.

"Yeah, I am." A breath of silence passed. "I just think I'm a little surprised with everything that's going on." The questions in his gaze quickly turned into sympathy and he patted her shoulder, his smile bright.

"I think I would be concerned if you weren't, Sloane." She quickly put the last of the bottles in the cabinet, closing it before he could see that what she was replacing didn't need replacement.

She barely had time to mull over the idea that popped into her head before she blurted it out, her heart lurching after the words left her lips. "I'm really sorry, but I heard that you and June and Molly were talking about sending a team in to see the new people. If that's true, I'd really love to be on that team."

His lips immediately dipped into a frown, letting out an exasperated sigh. She could see the conflict in his eyes as he mulled over his next words, bringing a hand to his mouth. "Sloane, I—It's probably not a good idea for you to go in there. All we're doing is greeting them and hopefully getting a sample or two. There's no reason to risk you getting sick for that."

"Please? You've said yourself that Lily isn't much more experienced than I am, and I was the first one to find them. That has to translate to some kind of rapport."

"Lily's ten years older than you. If anything, that's all the more reason we shouldn't risk it."

"Please?"

After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine." She had known from the dull sparkle in his eyes that he was going to give in, but it still made her grin with excitement. He parted his lips, pointing to one of the closet doors that sat intermittently across the walls, but Sloane was already racing off towards it.

"No need," she called back, the glee in her voice naive in a careful way. "I already figured this was where you kept them." She heard him chuckle slightly as she pulled the door open, two others already inside suiting up.


In the heavy polymer of the suit, Sloane was less than comfortable, but she barely even felt its weight as they approached the entrance to the quarantine wards. What felt like an endless barrage of checking and double-checking each latch had all led to this. She was admittedly still surprised that Abbot let her come, but it was a thankful surprise nonetheless. After a while of fiddling, they'd managed to lift the shield from the helmet's glass, leaving each of their faces visible yet blurry through the thick glass.

She wasn't all too familiar with the two apprentices in the group, but Abbot had assured them he would be the one doing most of the talking. One of them had a large briefcase tucked under their arms, piles of papers underneath the battered leather. Proof, Abbot had said, collecting countless tests and files from the locked cabinets in the back. If they really want to read all of it, it's there.

Of course, it wasn't really proof. All of the documents were from so far back nobody was alive to dispute them, and some careful editing painted a different portrait. The pages were relics of sickness, from when Andromeda was first born, before the treatments. In some way, it was true—the pain, the eventual death, the sheer helplessness of it all—but the victim wasn't from someone who managed to breach the border.

Sloane gulped past her bright smile as Abbot turned to them, his hand already reaching to unlock the door. "None of you should have to say anything, alright? All we're here to do is explain the situation to them. If any of them become violent, your only job is to get back outside and make sure your suits don't rip." He paused. "And preferably, keep them inside." All of them nodded, Sloane fighting the urge to bounce on her heels.

It felt like a new rush of adrenaline surged through her with each ding of the keypad, her breath nearly stopping in her chest with the hiss of the door unlocking. She could barely pry her feet from where they stood as Abbot lead them in, the door swiftly closing behind them. Sloane's eyes scanned the lone three for the figure she'd seen before, her eyes quickly settling on him. She gave a quick wave, hoping he could see her small smile.

Abbot stepped forwards, putting his hands out in greeting. "Alright, where do we start?"

sloane emrys

 

[solarsaphia]

quinn alexander

x

x

x

mood = there's pillows???
location = the infirmary, the wards.
outfit = here + a backpack.
tags = pomme .

A succession of dull thumps echoed as the guards dropped their weapons. Quinn let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, thankful the situation had dissolved without any scuffle, but there was something still nagging at the back of his mind. He could see them talking to each other, whispering too quietly for him to hear. There were the same distrust and tension he felt in their shoulders, and it felt off-kilter. Was this normal? He couldn’t shake the image of that girl and her porcelain-doll smile, the way it cracked and the world seemed to tilt as she was tackled by a shadow dressed in shiny plastic.

“Alright.” He nodded to Anna and Rio, spurred on by the wide-eyed looks they were throwing his way. “Let’s go.” His hands were shaking, so he stuck them in his pockets and started walking, the weight of leadership pushing him past the first few stumbling steps.

Walking through the city was an experience. The legion of guards— that’s what they were, the lack of weapons didn’t change anything— kept a steady pace, practical but reasonable enough for his group to gawk suitably at their surroundings. Quinn thought of a snowglobe he had found in a decimated village’s schoolhouse. The colors of the scene were glassy, pale blues and greys blurring into the sky above, and he found himself squinting from the too-bright shine of the streetlights. They passed an empty playground, then a garden devoid of wilted flowers. He swallowed a shudder.

The infirmary looked, as most of the city, unused. Quinn supposed that corroborated with the claim that his group had a disease in them they didn’t know of. The word immunity rang in his mind, but he couldn’t place its importance. He stepped over the lip of the rusty door, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, and glanced behind him to make sure Anna and Rio were still following in turn.

As they entered the room, Anna tugged at his sleeve. “Look, there. What’s that?” Quinn glanced up and caught a flash of blinding, sterile white before the door was slammed shut with a bang. He flinched. Anna opened her mouth, but he shook his head, quickly, and elbowed her gently in the side. Not now.

Quinn turned back to the woman. Her eyes were bright and tense, matching the stuttering rush of adrenaline in his veins, and he wondered if the only reason he had survived this long was how on edge situations could make him. “You wouldn’t be the first.” He smiled, but it felt strained. They’d stumbled upon a village before, met with yells and wary questioning, but this had been the first time an organized force had approached them. “We will,” He returned, though his response was swallowed by another door slamming in his face.

Well then. Quinn blinked, turning back to the room before him. It was gentle-looking, as though a visitor was meant to have a pleasurable stay, and he couldn’t quite shake how it made him feel at ease. There were pillows, for gods’ sake. The ringing in his ears was whispering danger, but they had spent hours roaming the forests after the earthquake, and he could feel the exhaustion starting to catch up with him.

He stayed clear of the weird circle things that were on fire (wasn’t that a safety hazard?) and plopped down on one of the beds. Rio looked more apprehensive, sliding down the wall and stretching out until they had their unfairly-long legs sprawled out on the floor. Anna was on a bed parallel to him, poking at the cushions as though they might explode. “God damn. Quite the welcome commitee,” She snarked, only the washed-out ivory of her face betraying her exhaustion.

Rio shook their head, but they were smiling nervously. “Have you seen their faces? They all look so… clean.”

“They look like they’ve discovered the secret to perfect skin with this place.” Now leaning so she had her torso pressed against the bed, Anna threw her right arm to her forehead dramatically. “What a day, eh?”

Quinn snorted, feeling vaguely lightheaded. “Just another Tues— well, probably Wednesday by now. How long did we spend in the forest?” It had been a blur of confusion for him. Earthquakes could come seemingly out of nowhere in the wasteland, fueled by the way radiation had made the ground cracked and fragile, and it had been one of those moments where he was so certain he was about to die he couldn’t think of much else.

Running a hand through their mess of curls, Rio shrugged. “I dunno. I’m tired, though.”

An oddly-solemn sequence of nods circled the three of them. Quinn looked up to the ceiling— it looked endless, like an artificial sky stretching miles ahead, and the feeling of a soft surface beneath him was an odd but pleasant change from the usual. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened, aware of the indecipherable talking that was going on outside the room’s walls. It was easy to imagine why. They had been a shock to the city, and considering how well-put-together everything seemed, he was willing to bet they were worried his group’s presence would throw them off-balance. Disease or not, they were intruders. He just hoped that intrusion wouldn’t end up costing their lives.

The quiet ding and hiss of the door opening startled Quinn into sitting up, blinking the momentary rest out of his eyes. A small group stood before them, in the same suits from the field, and he immediately recognized the girl and the one who had tackled her. He smiled back, and it felt a bit less forced.

“Hey,” He started, feeling uncharacteristically nervous as he propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m not too sure— someone said something about a disease we have?”

Anna raised an eyebrow at the newcomers. “Yeah. Never heard of it before, but I guess those things just pop up.” Her voice was airy, bordering on plain sarcasm, and Quinn resisted the urge to slam his face into the bed.

“Uh, yeah. We can try our best to tell you where we’ve come from.” Quinn shrugged. “There’s not much of a map out there in the wasteland, though.”

coded by solarsaphia.