Prismatic Penitentiary [IC]

Echo

~3 Hours Later...

「」Kaisa 「」

Time went by fast enough until guards burst in, the little lynx that had tried to fight pressed close between them. Both heads snapped to the new thing and Kai looked away, back to Nyx soon enough. A few seconds passed and Nyx's hand lifted, about to brush against her temple before shoving it down again and Kaisa grinned. Relaxing against the steel wall, her attention went back to the newcomer.

"These beds are certainly not the height of comfort. I'd say not to do that but I feel you'd rather try take my eye out than actually listen. Not to mention, we'll be heading along soon enough." Kaisa waited for a whole of 3 seconds before her opinion came out, gesturing loosely to Nyx getting ready. That was smart.
Unfolding her legs, the shifter glanced around for her boots, reaching for the fallen one first to tug it on. "Whaddya think Nyx? Another cat or are we gonna be stuck with a dog? I personally hope for the former but...." Kai trailed off with a shrug, leaving the slightly long hems of her pants brushing the floor. With some luck, she wouldn't be in this form for terribly long anyway.

The guards had gone silent, falling into their usual positions and Kaisa watched them for a second before deeming it a good enough time to redo her hair. Already falling out, she pulled it tighter as she plaited, watching Nyx and the new girl, gaze flickering every so often. Be interesting to see what the other would end up as, she seemed like something or someone small and scrappy.

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^_Amilyn
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It had been a quiet morning before the gates were scraped open. It had been the kind of drowsy morning that, in another life, one might have spent submerged in clean, warm sheets. The sun was considerate of its subjects, the breeze as pleasant as if it came from a child's storybook. Amilyn heard the vehicle before she saw it; she almost didn't recognize the sound for what it was. More inductees.

Metal screeched against the dusty ground as the gates shut once more, enclosing the dull bus inside the penitentiary's walls. She had to restrain herself from flying off her bed over to the window. It took every ounce of composure she had, to stand calmly and walk over, trying to prove to the others that she wasn't all that interested. She wasn't the only one, of course. A few kids in white shirts like hers joined her at the window. From this vantage point, they could see a small gathering outside of people loosely collected in a half-moon shape in front of the bus.

Part of her wanted to go out there to join the crowd, to get a closer look, but when she tried to move, she found she was frozen in place. She didn't know exactly what was stopping her. She wasn't afraid of newcomers. Rather, the prospect of meeting new people excited her. Yet she felt she could not move all the same. What kept her rooted there, she might have spent an eternity trying to figure out, but then someone stepped onto the platform that was slightly removed from the rest of the people in the courtyard.

A man- no, half a man- began to speak. His words floated up through the air but Amilyn quickly tuned them out. It was the same speech she had heard a few times now, and it somehow sounded worse each time. Instead, she willed herself to focus on the kids that were coming out of the bus, trying to count them while simultaneously snapping a mental picture of their faces in her mind as best she could. Most of them looked dazed, lost. She could empathize with them. They would learn soon enough how to go numb to it all. Some of them were on the verge of tears, and some of them looked ready to swing their balled fists at anything within reach.

Amilyn held back a sigh, debating whether she should continue watching or return to her bed. She would see their faces again when they were all given their colors. Before long, she would know who each of them was, even if she never knew their names. That was the way it worked. It was almost like school, in a twisted nightmare-ish way, and at night, when she replayed her days, she could almost pretend that she was home, in a small town where there were no secrets and rumors traveled faster than wildfire. It was funny, the things she used to think were important, and maybe they had been once, but not anymore.

She released the breath she'd been holding. When the masked actor left his stage, she and most of the others drifted back to their places. She sat on the edge of her bed, pondering. The rest of the afternoon would not go on as usual, so she was resigned to sit and wait for instructions. On any other lazy day, she might have sought out the people she called friends, but she soon realized she wasn't up for socializing. Though the sun was shining, she couldn't help but feel there was now a damper over the base.

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_^Amos
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The daylight was surreal. At first, it blinded him. He was used to the dark, used to not seeing and not being seen. He had lost track of the days while he was living down there in the stormdrains. It could have been weeks, it could have been hours since he first descended. He thought he left no trace, yet they found him anyway, eventually. Amos tried to put up a fight at first. But those big men with their gruff voices and big sticks and coarse gloves were able to persuade him to come quietly. He saw the writing on the wall, then. Still, they saw fit to beat him into submission, until Amos could hardly remember how he ended up in that godforsaken place.

He had drifted in and out of consciousness, sleep a welcome friend to the throbbing pain. He didn't know how much time had passed, or how far they had gone before they got him on a bus with a number of other young people. Squinting to clear his vision, he longed for the shadows. He didn't want to look at anyone's faces, didn't want them to look at his.

Luckily, few of them were concerned with anyone besides themselves. The final leg of the journey was uneventful, but their final destination proved to be something akin to hell. Amos filed into line with the rest as they got off the bus, greeted by a line of guards, and beyond them, a rim of more teenagers, all wearing different color shirts.

Motion caught his eye. A girl fumbled blindly around, until a gaurd approached her. It was like a lightbulb bursting: she snapped into action, attacking the man and drawing attention from his comrades. They managed to tase her in the back and bring her down, pinning her. Amos made no move to help her, though something small in him was urging him to do something. He stood, silently watching with everyone else, until she was subdued and a man in half a mask began to speak to them from a platform.

Amos couldn't recall a single word later on. It was brief, he knew, but once the man- the one he assumed was in charge- had retreated into the building, the guards began to usher them toward those same doors. Before he even crossed the threshold, panic like bile rose in the back of his throat. We're being confined in here? An unsettling conclusion came to him in a steady drip. This was a prison.

He didn't have to wonder what would happen to them for very long. Led through what felt like never-ending corridors, Amos and the other newcomers found themselves entering a large room. It was empty, except for the guards every two meters along the walls and outlining where the teenagers should stand. They were separated into five groups and each group was given a color. There was a lot of whispering, and he couldn't hope to comprehend what was really going on, though it couldn't be good. The colors were the same as the ones he had seen on the people outside. His group was one of the larger ones, while others only had as few as three. There was one person he recognized. The girl from outside, she was holding a black shirt. Impossible to know why, though he could take an infinite amount of guesses.

When she looked up, he blinked, only half-surprised to see the lack of color to her irises. A male voice broke through his train of thought, telling them all that they would be brought to their color rooms, and then later they would begin training.

Training for what? Amos suppressed the chill creeping up his spine. He would find out soon enough.