[hr][right][h2][b][color=#e1ff4f][u]Naomi Popjay[/u][/color][/b][/h2] Arc 2, Day 1; 9:35 AM On the Gray Line, courtesy of Ominar Transportation Services Corner of Camdarry Alley and Basken Dr --> 4040 Culphey Ln, Apartment D2 [/right] [hr] [color=#e1ff4f]"Earbuds are fucking tripe. I have never been so offended in my [i]entire life.[/i]"[/color] For Naomi, life had just become an arduous journey. The truest version of a trawl through hell. The clasp of the little headphones dangled annoyingly in front of her nose, pods shoved haphazardly into her foxlike ear canals. A song that could really only be described as [url=https://youtu.be/Bfdy5a_R4K4]'butt rock's younger brother, butt pop'[/url] pumped through the noisemakers as Nao quickly whipped the wire behind her head, temporarily tangling herself in the cord as she played a short game of hot potato with her phone. You see, it would have been quite strange for her outburst to not garner attention, but the fact of the matter was that the sweet southerly Australian accent could not even nearly match the sheer gravitas of the massive, floating hands that hovered at either side. Aldous--the left--gingerly picked up the phone, coming to rest at an angle that didn't irritate the edges of Naomi's ears. People were staring. Well, most were staring. Some were licentia... Who had certainly at some point adopted a form that wasn't catered to by the likes of Bose or AKG. Others were human. Some were elderly, looking upon her with sneers and snide expressions as her outcry had interrupted whatever video game they were playing--or merely interrupted the sanctity of the 'seen, not heard' clause of being--or just looking--like a licentia in Praesville. But, of course, Naomi was not a licentia. She was just another human, plagued by a kink for the bizarre. And by headphone cords being entirely too short. Her tail swished lightly hither and yon, sensing a humorlessness in the air. Like a dowsing rod for stink-eye. The licentia she sat next to, however--a great big man, shaped like a shark that hadn't skipped a single leg day--gave her salvation in the form of a chuckle. [i]"Hey, listen, least you've got a place to put them. See these?"[/i] His girthy finger gestured just above his false gills, at a tiny hole in the side of his head, [i]"Yeah, I haven't figured out how to get ears on me without making it look like someone taped some normal ears on and painted 'em blue. Made me look like a fuckin' extra on a kid's show."[/i] The faint Geordie twang merely added to his hearty chuckle, clapping her on the back in a show of camaraderie. A crooked grin played across Nao's face--she couldn't help it. [color=#e1ff4f]"Now, you know what's really shit? Shoes. Look at these."[/color] Her pawed foot rose slightly, allowing her to present it with a pair of outstretched well-manicured hands--and two giant floating gauntlets. The shoe itself was quite simply made--a wrapping with a sole, clasped with two golden buckles and a heel descending to meet the open toe. Her paw wriggled in demonstration. [color=#e1ff4f]"Fox feet was the worst idea I could've had. I..."[/color] Naomi looked across the cabin of the bus. It was entirely too quiet. It didn't help that these were the types that looked like they'd swoon at the sight of a pair of wings and sticks shoved where holes should be. [color=#e1ff4f]"...Think we should move this conversation abovedeck. I could use some fresh air, couldn't you?"[/color] She offered George to the man, who wrapped his hand around the ring and hoisted himself up--Nao winced ever so slightly as she shifted her ostium's discharge to shoulder his weight, but otherwise hardly changed expression as her heels clicker-clacked against the floor. And lo, there it was. Ominar's Camdarry Alley--the longest stretch of Old Town, nestled right along the River Dour. It smacked of the old world, of a time before the time before--Romanesque architecture lined the streets and side paths, all resplendent in the morningtime mist. Autumn slipped its ruddy hues and sunlit yellows in between the sepia-tone streets, breathing warmth into the dawning chill. Something about it all made Nao feel wistful for the days where she was cooped up in the attic with a book on vis circuitry, with Kapsey downstairs cooking up something fresh and simple. Lots of salt, though. Naomi's arteries whimpered nostalgically. [i]"You're a queer one, aren't you? Come all the way up here and then you glaze right over. Where are you from, anyway? I can't hardly pin that accent. Sounds proper."[/i] The mammoth of a man leaned gingerly against the side railing, hardly even reacting to the biting wind that buffeted the open-air seats. Naomi planted herself against the rails, looping her tail through the underside as she sat herself up on the rim of the bus. Her tiny size forced her to make a bit of a hop, but it was altogether fairly fluid. [color=#e1ff4f]"Sorry, didn't mean to space out like that. I'm just thinking about home--little place called Alice Springs."[/color] [i]"Fuck me, that's not Britain at all! Where's that? South Africa? Australia? You don't sound [b]too[/b] tourist."[/i] A sharp, cheerful chirp sprung from Naomi's throat. She answered with a single finger-gun at the sound of her home country, a smile playing across her sickeningly-saccharine face. [color=#e1ff4f]"That's the one! Look the place up. Good-size town, right in the middle of Australia. Really, just a bunch of decent folk. My dad was a licentia--but, uh, no relation, though. I'm human as they come, with a couple of, uh, tweaks--"[/color] Her tragic backstory screeched to a halt, as did the bus. [color=#e1ff4f]"The [b]fuck[/b] is that?"[/color] The fuck in question was a raucous mob standing directly in the way of Naomi's bus ride home. A standing protest. [i]"Well, that's a crying shame. They've disrupted the whole government. You see this bus?"[/i] The shark-man gestured to the vehicle below with a sardonic grin, [i]"Whole of fucking Parliament in here. They're really making a difference. Wait, did you say you're [b]not--[/b]"[/i] [color=#e1ff4f]"Hold the queries for a moment. What are they even protesting about? Licenti rights?"[/color] Naomi peered over the front end, trying to get a better look at the tiny sea of signs. The first one that jumped out at her was perhaps the most beautifully designed, simple, and excellently executed sign she had ever seen in her entire, blessedly short life: [center][h3][i]PRAE ARE CUNTS[/i][/h3][/center] [color=#e1ff4f]"That's really hard to argue with. They made a statement, and they meant it. Guess I was right about the licentia rights thing. You can see 'em all in the crowd."[/color] Naomi pointed to the variety of folk--reptilian men in hoodies, strange ears and eyes abound, a small bevy of non-standard legs and tails--that were riotously chanting an incoherent garble of different messages. [color=#e1ff4f]"I can't tell if they're saying all different things or just speaking Welsh."[/color] The many-toothed man's browless brow furrowed in disappointment and consternation. [i]"This is exactly the kind of shit that gives us a bad name. It's not great. Didn't one of those prae queen types just die? What're people going to think when they see these folk on the news? They never think about the image of us working types. I can't afford to be losing what job I've got for some chav with a heroin habit what wants to have fourteen tails and a wing growing out his arse in public."[/i] Naomi, however, had had quite enough of waiting. [color=#e1ff4f]"Well I'll be fucked if I'm going to sit around waiting for some tit with a head like an orange to tell Bastille Day 2: The Reckoning down there that they've got the wrong spot. Are you coming?"[/color] Half of this, of course, was said as she quickly made her descent down the side of the bus, using Aldous and George as her own personal staircase. As she hit the ground, she offered a massive ringed mitt to her newfound companion, which he gingerly took--and the other construct carefully grabbed his other arm. [color=#e1ff4f]"Just jump on down, I've got you,"[/color] came Nao's surprisingly reassuring voice as her friend hopped down, fall slowed considerably by her two floating helpers. And then, of course, Naomi had to say something smart. She'd been mulling on what sounded the most clever for the past minute, and continued mulling until the first syllable cleared her lips: [color=#e1ff4f]"Hey, come on, derv-verv-er..."[/color] she trailed off, having to start again. Nao's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she internally 'reset' herself. [color=#e1ff4f]"Diversity hires coming through! We have a friend who needs us so he can make racist jokes!"[/color] A twang of pride forced her chest out and forward, as she used Aldous and George to pave a path--she was only a block away from the sweet solace of home, and she [i]knew[/i] she deserved a nice shower. Her newfound ally quickly tottered after her, pushing past the little wall of people in order to catch up. The next few minutes were spent conversing. Small talk. His name was Ghillie, and he was actually [i]from[/i] Newcastle. The shark thing really wasn't intentional--he was born at sea, and his parents were both sailor types. He got to be out on the ocean so much that his body simply adapted to it--and he'd always liked sharks. It just became natural. They talked about the graffiti on the walls of old-town buildings. How bigoted things were getting. The Exeo's death. That one new movie--the action flick that everyone was talking about. They didn't even have special effects, really--most of it was licentia stunt-boys and the like with a little bit of CGI to make them suit the artist's renditions. [i]"Real impressive stuff, honestly. I love that we're getting more roles and such, but I do still wish they'd give us another starring role--you remember Beauty and the Beast? Great live-action. Comsey Kade was great in it."[/i] Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end--Naomi reluctantly bid her farewells to her newfound comrade, though they promised to keep in touch. All of that, of course, was a great deal less important than home, sweet home. 4040 Culphey Lane. Naomi had to feed Cap--she'd been out of the house for the past four hours, attending courses that she wasn't enrolled in and using her phone for day-trading. He was going to be [i]so[/i] upset. As she entered her homey, cozy little apartment, the cry of a hungry parakeet drowned out her thoughts. [color=#e1ff4f]"Aw, Cap, honey, I know--I've been out of the house all day. But I've got your feed right here, okay?"[/color] Naomi skipped past the hastily strewn clothes and pulled a little baggie out of the cupboard--all seeds and berries. Cap's favorite. This was home, for Nao. A place with her stuff, a place with her bird, a place where she could just be herself and not have to worry about the outside. It helped, moreover, that she wasn't paying utilities. Reluctantly, she pulled up her phone and began to scroll through the messages, looking for things of interest--and her heart immediately sank. Her face was [i]already[/i] tagged on a photo. Alongside words like 'race traitor.' [color=#e1ff4f]"Fuck,"[/color] stated her sense of dread. Her fingers quickly began tapping away as she began back-tracing her photo, looking for as many of them as possible--and, of course, there she was, pushing licentia out of the way during a protest like nothing was wrong. This was going to be a long morning. [color=#e1ff4f]"Fuck,"[/color] reminded Cap. For Naomi, life had just become an arduous journey.