forum "the world is over-" "maybe, but its our world now" (large group - open 5/7) **PLEASE JOIN** (or at least look at...)

Started September 21, 2021 by @CaseyJ group

tune

Delilah was standing at her post, looking for any movement anywhere that might signify a refuge, she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and exhaled slowly. The sun was blazing, sending occasional black spots into her vision, she took her canteen out of her pocket and took a swig from it, tucking it safely back into the pockets of her cargo pants.

She found herself wondering what it would be like ot be a refugee, then shook her head. No rules, no following said rules. She wouldn't be standing in the blazing hot sun, that was for sure, but still, she wondered…

(I didn't know what to do with Jules, so I did my best. Jules is just doing Jules things lol)

Jules didn't know what the world was like beyond these walls. His memory failed him at best, and he was alright with that. He didn't care how or why he was here since he was needed. He'd exhausted all of the things he could do when he wasn't working to relieve the fatigue of the long days. The room, like everything else, was bland and gray. This was the infirmity, it was what he called the room, but he spent most of his time here. The shelves were stocked with medical supplies, though he could always heal the wound himself, no supplies required. Jules had his own little desk which was piled high with medical journals. He wrote these every time someone was in his care to keep track of their history and document how they were injured. These logs were critical in keeping the troublemakers in line. Except for the few places of bedding reserved for people with severe injuries, nothing else stood out. The majority of people did not sustain serious injuries. Many were minor scrapes or cuts that could be healed with a gentle touch. He'd always known himself as Jules, and he'd always wondered why he was labeled with numbers like a dairy cow. It made no difference to him. The preservation of lives was all that mattered.

He'd been with the refugees for a while, trying to make friends with those he could. Jules sat in the corner, strumming the strings on his guitar, ready to pass out from the sleep deprivation he had inflicted on himself. There were times when he wished for something exciting to happen to spice up his dull life. He never complained, but his mind's tongue was sharp.

Vienna stands up from her desk, writing a few number onto a paper next to the cause of injury before turning around to look at Jules.
She knew what life was like outside of the refuge and honestly, she didn't want to ever go out there again. Inside of here was her safe place and where she could relax. The only thing Vi really had to care about what taking care of other people and her mild depression but who didn't have some of that nowadays.
She thought about her life before the government had taken her in, when she still lived with her mom. Taking care of all of the plants in their small hidden house, making herbs and tea out of what they would grow simply in their cracked window.
Though the day her mother died was the day her life was ruined. Which was something she tried not to dwell on for too long.
She looks around the dull room, feeling stuffy and slightly claustrophobic, leaving her wanting to step outside only for the fresh air and space.
Vi loved the small spaces, preferring the comfortability and safety it provided. But she was able to miss her home every now and again right?
"so" she starts, "what happened this time?" she asks as she searches his person for any injuries. Her voice soft and more on the quiet side
(sorry I'm not too familiar with the setting yet so I'm awkward)

(I feel like I should state Jules is also a medic, but is horribly sleep-deprived)

Jules stopped playing his guitar, eyes glossy and unfocused. There was no time for him to get and know Vi well. He looked at her with a furrowed brow, having a hard time processing what she had said. Did she think he was a patient? That was interesting to him, considering he was convinced he was here longer. Maybe he was wrong, but it made no difference to him. Jules put the guitar down, trying to stand on his wobbly legs. Shaking his head to stay awake, he stumbled over to the medical supplies and bandaged up a little cut. He didn't mind the stuffy room. There was an impression of it in his mind because of all the long nights spent. Jules never wondered about what his past home was like. It never even crossed his mind. Stabilizing himself against a wall, he spoke in a soft tone. "Nothing… I'm not a patient. I just cut myself on the guitar string… that's all." He gestured to Vi's log, meaning that she could write that near his name if she pleased.

Jules sat back down and started to play his guitar again, waiting for the scout to get back. Maybe they had found something interesting or a person in need. He was not aware that one of them was trying to get out. Break the biggest rule to date. He wouldn't be able to understand why. This was all he knew thanks to his lost memories, but he liked it.