closed

[senna_]

❛❛''━━'⋆'𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒

he/him;..medjack;..location; medhut..mentions; maya, karter, tag..tags; clara

The rest of the day seemed to have gone by rather quickly, for both good and bad reasons. For the most part, he had spent it with Maya. Nikolas had a good feeling he was going to like Maya. She wasn’t the loudest of the bunch, and even though she was new, he had a feeling that wasn’t going to change. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though. She seemed rather level-headed, and reliable; the only official task she had done so far was putting up her hammock, but even from those few moments, Nikolas could tell she was going to be a good worker. While Nikolas wasn’t the type to constantly observe what everyone was doing, especially when it came to shift work, he knew another pair of helping hands were very much needed. Especially after their earlier incident, which resulted in a wipe-out of nearly half the Glade. The more people, the better. Right now, it looked like the Glade had been trampled by Grievers. Or worse, run by them. The number of ticks Nikolas had plucked off himself was horrendous.

The second half of the day wasn’t as delightful as the first. Nikolas had been eager to show Maya around and formally introduce her to some of the Gladers ━ Keepers or otherwise ━ when Raelynn had frantically burst into the Homestead, demanding him to come back to the Medhut as soon as possible. As soon as possible being, “drop everything and come this very moment.” Or, in other words, Nik had no choice but to leave poor Maya to her own devices. He did assume, though, that Lillian had been kind enough to take over. He couldn’t see why the blonde wouldn’t do such a thing, especially given the fact that she had been lingering around Maya since her arrival to begin with. It only made sense. Thankfully, even if Maya didn't understand the circumstances (much like Nikolas at that moment, to be honest), she seemed understanding in terms of letting him go so quickly. He'd be back to check on her later, anyway. He didn't doubt someone had scooped her up at some point, if not Lillian herself.

While he had been slightly irritated that he had been interrupted so suddenly, that infuriation had died off the second Nik set eyes on the unfolding scene in front of him. Clara, with a line of dried, crimson-red blood smeared down the side of her face. Nikolas had almost been tempted to make a joke about her battle-scarred look, if it hadn’t been for the cloudy, dazed look in her eyes – she was in trouble. Her inhumane giggling was an odd thing to come across, and her childish clapping wasn’t doing anyone any good. It didn't help that Karter was infuriatingly getting in the way every two seconds, either. It was almost as though someone had taken a thick book and slapped him in the head, sending all the common sense - whatever little bit that was in him - right out into the maze. Eventually, someone had managed to drag him away. Rae, had it been? Nik couldn’t remember, he had been way too concerned about Clara’s state.

Now, he wasn’t even worried about the bonfire that was being set up a little ways away. His hazel eyes were lingering on a dopey-looking Clara; while he was glad her unusual, hyper attitude had died down, she was definitely out of sorts. And while Nikolas did like to talk, he knew better around Clara. He had questions, so many questions, all that had popped up whilst attempting to stitch her right up, and while they lingered on the tip of his tongue, Nik resisted. Instead, he cleared his throat and steered his thoughts down another path. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” he greeted. “How’re you feeling?”

[senna_]

❛❛''━━'✦𝐏𝐄𝐊𝐎𝐄

she/they;..runner;..location; bonfire..mentions; jorja..tags;

Night had been eager to cast its warmly blanket across the Glade. Pekoe was ever so grateful for it, too. She was exhausted. It was almost ironic, the odd level of fatigue that had swept right over her thin body; she hadn’t really done much. Sure, she had helped with the odd task that needed to be done, and tinkered with a few things in the paddocks, given that it had been the first task handed to her, but apart from that, there hadn’t been anything that would have seriously knocked Pekoe right out. She hadn’t been running, after all. Not her mouth, not her legs, nothing. In fact, today had been a remotely inactive day. Apart from the mess with Newt, that was to say. That whole scenario, particularly the awkward break-off between herself and Khalil, had been more of a stuffy, uncomfortable pain in the head than the literal headache she had woken up with last night. He had been quick to leave mid-morning, though, and Pekoe was almost tempted to say that was because of Jorja. Jorja hadn’t ever mentioned tension or whatnot between herself and he who called himself their leader, but the way the blond had left in a hurry convincingly said otherwise. Whatever, though. That had been his loss. Of course, Pekoe hadn’t been able to stay around Jorja for much longer (how terribly tragic; Jorja’s naïve, upbeat personality seemed to be the only thing that could really boost Pekoe’s mood), but the short amount of time spent with the Cook was appreciated. Pekoe was ever-so envious of the way Jorja seemed to handle things. She had such a positive outlook on everything; black and white, they were. There was little grey area between them.

In a way, Pekoe supposed that was much like the bigger picture: her placement within the Glade, and her thoughts regarding so. Pekoe didn’t typically tip back and forth when it came to her opinion on the place. She was thirsty for a change of scenery. Long, intertwined grasses of all shades of neutral greens and browns; dying, sloped trees; caved-in buildings… it had all become so dull. The only colourful object, truth be told, was the thick walls of the Maze: the only thing that called to her. Pekoe was aware that the feeling of comfort she seemed to obtain whilst doing her job within the Maze was unusual. The Maze was typically supposed to send fearful shivers down one’s spine, and make the small hairs on their arms rise to full height, and cause bursts of dreaded adrenaline to surge down them, pushing them faster towards the safety net they called the Glade. For Pekoe, however, it was the opposite. Despite being ironically claustrophobic, the eery silence that dripped down on them was exactly what she wanted to wrap herself up in. Unfortunately, she was going to have to wait and go through one more round of sleep before she could do that. The Doors had closed now, too; there was no way in.

Although Pekoe hadn’t ever been a big fan of the activities that sprouted around the lapping flames of the fire they always put on for the Greenie, she was craving the warmth the creation brought with it. So, thinned pencil in hand and brand new sketchbook tucked under her arm, Pekoe reluctantly found herself dragging her body over to the gathering. So far, few people were present, but as soon as the lights went out completely and fatigued swiped them into a completely different world, wild chaos would break free of its cage and devour each and every Glade whole until nobody remembered their own names. It always happened. And every single time, Pekoe watched with unimpressed horror. They were like wild animals, frantically gulping down whatever drink Gally made this time around, bathing in the heat that radiated off both the ginger-red flames and their own bodies. The sight was usually almost as bad as the frequent nightmares Pekoe got. Almost.

She was contented sitting off to the side right time around, right under one of the bare apple trees. She’d managed to start a sketch earlier today, a sketch of a particular Track-Hoe, with devilish horns sprouting from the hairline. Unfortunately, though, Pekoe had ended up falling asleep, smudging half the face in the process, and was now highly unmotivated to finish it. So, with a flip of a page, they decided to start over. Start fresh. Her dark grey eyes skimmed the prairie-like land; its visuals slightly blurred from the hungry flames before her. However, she managed to catch sight of someone appealing. Jorja. Pekoe was best at sketching portraits of people. She knew showed them, nor did she ever really look at them again, but they were fun to do. And so, arching her back so that her spine didn’t uncomfortably rub against the bark of the tree, she dusted off the page, and began to get to work.

[senna_]

❛❛''━━'✿'𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐘

'she/her;..trackhoe;..location; bonfire..mentions; maya, khalil..tags; OPEN

Kitty had been beyond excited all day. Greenie Arrival Day was always her most favourite day. She did quite enjoy the company of all her fellow Gladers, of course, but someone new and fresh to the scene? It was always so thrilling and delightful! It was almost like a breath of fresh air, really; it seemed to remind her that every day wasn’t a variation of the days before. A copy-paste scenario, in other words. She had been pretty upset at first when the Greenie was pulled away by Nikolas, but it wasn’t really surprising. He always dove right in there and snatched the newbie up, regardless of who they were or how they acted. Perhaps it was for the best, really. While Kitty was confident she would do a good job with her tours, she knew all too well that she had a tendency to get easily distracted, and there was a good chance the Greenie wouldn’t end up learning very much from her. She was fine leaving the hard work to everyone else, even if selfishly, she wanted to have the Greenie’s attention and make a new friend. There was plenty of time for that – it wasn’t like they were going anywhere anytime soon!

She did find herself looking up constantly, however, to catch sight of the brunette. Kitty didn’t even know her name, although she supposed the Greenie didn’t yet know it herself. Kitty didn’t figure hers out until four days in. It had been shameful, really, declining every single time someone made mention of it, cheeks burning so red they surely had to have been glowing. The joy that had powered through her upon recollecting it was the best she had ever felt. She hoped this Greenie would feel the same way. Names, as little as they were, were something to cherish. They were, after all, the only personal thing they kept with them – the only thing, other than their physical bodies, that made it out alive past the time they exited the Box. Or, to a degree, anyway. There were a few Gladers who had sided with a slightly different name than what they had first come up with, Kitty included. Catherine. It still stuck with her well. She couldn’t remember how Kitty came to be (was it because her first returning memory had been a cat? Or had she only convinced herself that was the reason?), but she was genuinely happy with the name she had settled on. Of course, it seemed to have taken weeks before people actually listened to her and called her what she wanted to be called (how unfair; she had heard they’d called Pekoe Pekoe instantly), but she had won in the end. And that made her feel like she was truly part of the pack.

Now, the bonfire was just around the corner, and Kitty was shivering with excitement. She had gone out of her way to pick a handful of coral-coloured geraniums for the Greenie, and had even tied them together with a pretty silver ribbon she’d snatched from a box inside of the Homestead building. She wasn’t entirely sure the Greenie would actually show up to the bonfire, but Kitty hoped she would. Most of them did. With a skip in her step, the Track-Hoe descended the Homestead, a grin on her face as she made her way over to the bonfire, which had just been lit. The flames danced in her dark brown eyes as she looked around, offering Khalil an excited wave from across the fire (had he even seen it? The fire was definitely as tall as she was) before continuing her way towards the line of logs that had been set up. Setting her flowers down, Kitty wiped her hands against her clothes, then skipped over to the table of refreshments and other goods – something Jorja undoubtedly set up. She was thrilled to spot the marshmallows; WCKD wasn’t the most kind of people out there, but they always provided the Gladers with a bag whenever the Box came up. Eagerly grabbing one, she squished the white, sugary fluff in her hands, then swivelled back on her heels and bounded to the other side of the fire to retrieve a roasting stick.