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The steel surfaces glinting in the evening's drowsy sun rays captured her gaze obsessively as she peered out the window of the hoverbus. Even though absolutely nothing of interest lay beyond the blind glass in their city in a constant sleep.
Not one soul wandered in the streets echoing with ghosts of a memory that none recalled. Not one single ringing laugh, not a lingering smile, and not even a passing greet. All was fleeting, but loneliness stayed as their constant comfort.
It was unfortunate that ever a discomforting feeling should become a comfort, but it was a misfortune they were ready to bear after decades of tears and losing everything and all they knew to the plague that buried the old world to grave. The citizens found comfort in loneliness; to save themselves from the pain of inevitable death.
Yet, Nova desired to feel something beyond loneliness. Pain, anger, fear—happiness, alike one she saw on the countenance of Wilds. Even they were not quite at peace, so she dared not hope for it. But happiness, she hoped to feel. It was unimaginable, yet she fancied hearing its gentle whispers in her mind and its touch in her heart, on the day Nova had left the city and into nature's care.
The cool glass against which she rested her head sought to lull her to sleep, as she shook herself awake, tracing unseen patterns on her dress skirt to keep her mind alert. Sighing, she crossed her ankles, and folded her hands on her lap.
All she wanted was to return to the facility and sleep. Rest without care, but her father's word she dared not defy, not when the Mayor himself was gracing their table this eve. It was strange for him to invite himself to the house of any of his loyal associates, no matter how close. Especially not for the past two months; ever since Heath, the Mayor's younger son was killed by the wilds in vengeance.
And who else but her, could know better to which extent they raged in hatred, for she had been their willing victim merely days before Shielders ventured far deep inside the jungles in search of Heath.
Nova glanced at her sleeves, covering only till her elbows, leaving her wrists bare; now clear of the cuts and bruises from the rusted shackles she was bound in by the wilds.
"I'll answer Lyall if he asks." A woman spoke, bargaining with the guards outside.
Nova pressed closer to the bars of her cell, straining to listen to the woman wanting her release.
"But, Madam Roxanne—" A guard stammered.
"I have the authority, so you must comply and release her now." She said, with finality in her tone.
One of the guards at last grumbled inside the tiny room. Snatching the key from the wall, he unlocked Nova's cell aggressively, and dragged her outside; she squinted against the sun's slanting, dying rays, and met Roxanne.
