Look Beyond What You See (P)

I'm not quite done with my bios (I'll probably just do my main chari as well as one extra) so I'll get those done ASAP. Whenever you get yours done is fine, as well; we'll just start up when we're both ready!

Quite honestly, I just go to google images and type in a brief chari description and add on face claim to the end (ex. blonde male with blue eyes face claim). Sometimes it works for me, sometimes it doesn't xD

OOC: no worries! I love them! I'll start to get the ball rollin'. I'm so sorry if this isn't the best, usually first posts and exposition-y things are easier for me but I didn't have as much muse this time around :/

IC: Metal ceilings. Artificial light. Close spaces and tight restrictions and heavy rules. These were some of the things which Jetzabel had gotten used to throughout her life. It didn't bother her when she was younger, considering the fact that she couldn't understand how lackluster life was without blue skies and distant horizons and air that wasn't recycled to keep out a contagion. But the older she got, the more stories she heard, and the more she felt a pull towards the life that she was missing. Not enough to do anything about it, but enough for it to nag in the back of her mind in the wee hours of night where all she had to keep her company was silence. In the darkness before drifting off, there was always a hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to see the world beyond the government facility which trapped her within its belly.

After a thus short life of 21 years and counting, it seemed as though her wish would finally come true. After working hard to pass tests, learn medicine, and gain relevancy in order to be a nurse, she had to face a troubling conundrum that ultimately condemned her to leave the world in which she lived. Meanwhile, it also allowed her to learn a crippling truth: morals and kindness in such a society had somehow become synonymous with insurgency and death. Even though the few pills she gave to a patient would not drain the government of any overly valuable merchandise, her choices were apparently horrid enough to merit the worst of convictions.

For her crime of generosity and compassion, Jetzabel was to be tossed outside of the Facility's walls. It was the harshest of punishments with the greatest opportunity attached. It was nothing less than becoming a tainted outcast, and yet, for her crimes, she would finally be allowed to see the world outside. But was it worth it? Would she find herself overcome by a pandemic the government was attempting to protect the Facility's residents against, or would she find a better life beyond these walls?

No matter what future was in store for her, there was a hard knot of anger coiled up within Jetzabel's stomach. She knew that she had followed her moral compass by committing a crime, so she didn't regret her actions. She only regretted the fact that she lived in a place that was so harsh and unyielding that emotions were overturned by a perverse and sterile sense of necessity. Maybe it was for the best that she was going to be leaving this place; the taste in her mouth was currently enough to drive her away.

Lost in thought, she didn't see the crowd before her. Her eyes stared past the people--family and friends and enemies alike--and off into the distance, trying to imagine her future as she imagined it, not the present as she was presented. That was how she had coped being locked up, and so she carried on with that tactic into the final scene of her life as a safe citizen, so detached that she didn't even swipe away the bangs falling in her eyes.

To her right was a line comprised of three other unfortunate criminals. Whether their crimes justified death or not was debatable, and yet here they all were, standing on the brink of potential death outside this government-made safe haven.

In sharp contrast to Jetzabel was Jonathan. On the brink of exploding, he shifted back and forth on his heels, impatient for the final release into the outside world. He did not perceive there to be a future of death, but rather one of life. Anything was better than where they were now, right? The doors would open, their past existences would be behind them, and any shame gathered within the confine of the society would be null and void. Barely containing a sly smile from appearing on his lips, Jonathan looked about at his fellow convicts, seeking a similar spark of excitement in someone else.

And then a wall dividing the four and the crowd of citizens watching appeared, clanging shut with a note of utter finality, followed by the grating sound of another door squealing open.

Jetzabel turned, one hand tightening on the backpack given to her before the exile, to face the unknown. Jonathan, despite his anticipation, couldn't help but stand still beside her. He narrowed his eyes, trying to peer out as the massive door to the outside world was brought away, but he could see nothing.

It was a simulated midmorning within the government facility. Out here where the sun dictated time of day, it was a pitch black night.

Jonathan breathed deeply as the door came to a thundering halt. Jetzabel hoisted her backpack a little higher on her back. There was a pause. "Well. None of us have died yet." Jonathan couldn't quite see in the darkness of the night, so he turned to glance vaguely about at his fellows. "We should probably find some place to take shelter. Figure out what resources we have, what resources we need."

Jetzabel let out a jaded sigh. She wasn't that much older than him, but when it came to mental age and maturity, she already felt ancient beside him.

Jonathan cringed shamelessly, safe to do so thanks to the cover of darkness, as Omar shut John down. He initially thought that he was the one being yelled at, but apparently being the first to speak and not the last made a huge difference when it came to who an irritated person took his wrath out onto. People often told him that he looked older and more mature than he was -- a sentiment which rarely traversed the divide between physical appearance and what actually came out of his mouth -- so maybe that impression would work in his favor while they were out here.

Right of the bat, Jetzabel asserted her position as the primary diffuser of conflict. "First of all, fighting is not going to get us anywhere. If anything, disputes are going to be the death of us all. Second of all, age is but a number, and as numbers go, Jonathan has the lowest." It was obvious that she was attempting to keep things at least somewhat light hearted, but her intentions fell fairly flat. Instead of putting an end to the ire amongst the group, it seemed as though she were only exacerbating the issue and spreading around the toxin.

"What the hell," Jonathan grumbled. "If we're going to start throwing each other under the bus, then might I point out that-"

"Stop while you're ahead, Buster," Jetzabel shot back, cutting him off before he could so much as finish. "I'm thorough with information. And I'm thoroughly convinced that you're the single most criminal of us all." It was clear that she was implying that he held less relevancy and deserved less consideration than the other three in the group. As far as leadership roles went, that left Omar, John, and herself for a potential position of power. Also implied in her voice was the belief that she had what it takes to step up; she was modest enough to refrain from taking charge or claiming an interest in leading, but the determination in her voice told the story which her words failed to convey. She recognized the fact that age was a factor which held plenty of weight, but she also didn't believe that Omar deserved to be in charge simply because he had any extra six years tucked under his belt with which to boast of.

"Are we seriously going to turn this into a little kid's feel-good fairy tale story? Live in harmony together, harness our respective talents, bring to the table what we can without asserting full dominance?" Jonathan sounded pretty irritated, the only one that was unhappy for irrational and pathetic reasons. He felt extremely at odds with everyone else, a mixture of age differences and maturity setting him apart. "Please. Give me a break."

"Shut up," Jetzabel shot back in the sweetest of voices. "In case you failed to notice, it's the middle of the night out here. Time isn't exactly on our side, nor is experience. So we're going to find shelter and do reasonable things, not fight for the sake of fighting." She was dangerous in this moment. There was a tight, business-like demeanor about her, even as the color of her voice remained warm and inviting. Her time spent working with people -- a learning process which began even before becoming a nurse, starting with her interactions with children as a babysitter and progressing on to her interactions with peers in school who lacked basic reasoning and beyond -- had amply prepared her for asserting her dominance in this situation. "Save your complaints for later, suck it up, and let's go."

Jonathan had nothing to say to that, just scowled out into the darkness.

Developing some amount of night vision so as to vaguely see her companion's figures, Jetzabel inclined her head ever so slightly to each of them as a whole. "Let's head out, then. Unless anyone has another bright plan in mind, I vote we just head straight and see where that takes us." Without waiting for approval, she started walking forward, the first to blaze the path forward.

"Good idea." With the group headed off, united at least for now with a straightforward sense of purpose, Jetzabel allowed herself the opportunity to look around. Even though there was nothing to see in the darkness, there was still a thrill just by having the opportunity to turn her head and not see walls surrounding her in every direction. The sky was ablaze with stars above them; the air was deep and black all around them. If anything, she was surrounded by windows and doors, not walls. "I'm Jetzabel Smith," she shared in turn, pushing her glasses up her nose as they slid down. She began to regret not getting them tightened as she'd meant to before the proverbial sh*t hit the fan, knowing that there was no chance of that happening now. "I was a nurse. I guess my sense of morals differed with what the powers that be intended, so that's my purpose for being out here." She too didn't give a full description of what had happened to lead her to this point. Unlike Omar, however, she gave a vague clue towards what had occurred, avoiding all specifics for the time being.

Jonathan listened with mild disinterest to his first two companions' introductions. A doctor and a nurse, eh? At least if someone got a scratch they'd be fine. More than anything, what they'd likely need out here was a psychologist, or maybe a gravedigger. They were all gearing up to survive, but what if the Facility was truly a place of safety? Was a sky full of stars and an empty space a worthy trade for personal wellbeing and life? Maybe, maybe not. "Jonathan Daniels. I'll bet that everyone here was a fan of eating, yes? Because in that case, you're welcome. Agriculture was my game, before they decided that people being fed was stupid and they kicked me out." He didn't mention anything about his aggressive actions or insurrectionist talk, figuring that those bits of information was more likely to lose him friends than to gain him any. Not like he planned on making close friendships with any of these people; at this rate he was at the top of each and every one of their to-sacrifice lists. It didn't bother him too much, at least not enough for him to admit anything.

OOC: The bold formatting is a little punk, I relate to that struggle on a spiritual level

IC: Though Jetzabel could have felt a connection to any of the other members of this group, she found herself identifying most with Omar. Though age stood as a gap between them, they had a similar line of thinking. Perhaps it was due to their similar work experience, but there was a bridge of understanding connecting them. At the very least their similarities were stronger than the similarities they shared with the others in their group; Jonathan was another breed unto himself, and John was yet to leave a strong impression upon Jetzabel. His confidence in his leadership abilities hadn't been hidden, and his story filled in some gaps about what sort of fellow he was, but there was plenty of personal information about him that was yet to be exposed.

Even after years of working with people, it never failed to amaze Jetzabel how greatly peoples' professional lives and workplace demeanors could be at odds with who they actually were at heart. There were plenty of mysteries in life, but humanity was truly the most daunting of all wonders.

"Well, it's good to know that we have some variety among us," she said, the first to speak up after everyone had shared as much as they currently saw fit about themselves. "As long as we have the resources, the likelihood of any of us starving or dying to trifling illnesses has decreased substantially, so that's good." But of course, as John already pointed out, their prospects would only stay pleasant if they stuck together and remained as a unit. Any number of things could occur to pull them apart. And, needless to say, there was always the possibility that they'd die to the sickness that had gotten them cooped up in the government facility in the first place . . . .

"Wonderful!" Jonathan drawled, pulling and stretching the word instead of speaking it in the typical three syllables. "So we have a doctor, a nurse, an ag-guy, and, what? Someone who can boss us around?" He rolled his eyes, the action almost audible. "What do you plan on bringing to the table, Johny?"

"Well, then. I'll just call you when we need to talk our way out of death, and I'll have you recite it a poem or something," Jonathan said with as much sarcasm in his voice as he could muster. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'put your money where your mouth is'? 'Cause I feel like those words coming out of your mouth don't actually mean anything." He snorted slightly, hot air exiting through his nose in a puff of derision. "At least I can forage. And not get poisoned in the process." Despite John's high position within the Facility, Jonathan had already pegged him as the weakest member of their group. As a doctor and a nurse, Omar and Jetzabel weren't worth pissing off; they both had presented the fact that there was some amount of reason to back their medical knowledge, making them off-limits from harassment. If he ended up getting hurt, he wanted to ensure the fact that he wouldn't be left to bleed out thanks to messing with them. John, on the other hand, was far more naked without his position back in the government facility. The skills that he had from it weren't worthless, but they were certainly worth less in Jonathan's mind.

As the two males bickered, Jetzabel found herself fighting back a flaring temper. "Shut up!" she reprimanded sharply, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "We will work together. Perhaps not in the long run, but for now we need to put our egos aside and just deal with the situation. All right?" The nature of the question was rhetoric, as was her tone, but there was also a sense of need lingering behind her intent. She needed them to agree wholeheartedly to attempting to put differences aside and work towards a common goal. Having internal conflict could potentially mean condemnation for them, after all. If nothing else, it hurt her head to hear two grown people quarreling like children. "Instead of tearing each other down and creating problems, perhaps we should just focus upon a solution." In the darkness she eyed the shadowy outline of Jonathan. He was already proving himself to be nothing but trouble. If it came down to it, could she trust him?

Could she trust any of them?

Jonathan refrained from shooting back another volley of verbal attacks, if only due to the clear aura of warning radiating off of Jetzabel. He had a dozen decisively rude things to say, but he kept them under lock and key in the prison of his mouth, graciously giving it a rest.

He didn't like these people all too much. Jetzabel was fine, but maybe that was because she was a girl; Omar was of a foreign age, the difference between their numbers just large enough to keep him from feeling easy about the doctor; and John, well, he hated his cocky ass. Who cares if he held a position of responsibility in the facility? Last time Jonathan checked, they were under a sky, not a ceiling of artificial light. Running a large group of people meant nothing when dealing with a group of four. At least, that's what he told himself as fodder for his hatred.

Though the noise had quieted, the air still crackled with tension. Frustrated and already concerned about their chances come day, Jetzabel picked up her pace, distancing herself from the conflict. Maybe they would work it out themselves; maybe they wouldn't. All she knew was that getting in the middle of things now would be a nightmare. A few seconds later, Omar joined her, moving in close to preserve confidentiality between them. "Yeah, I agree," she murmured in response, her eyes falling and locking upon the darkness of the ground. "If they keep fighting amongst themselves, we're all going to be put into danger. That is, assuming we stay with each other long enough for a breaking point to be reached." A hand reached up to her shoulder, touching the backpack they had been given before exiting the Facility, as she reminded herself of what they had. What they didn't have. Unfortunately for them, the so called 'bare necessities' didn't include a flashlight. If they could use anything right now, that was it. "Furthermore," she sighed, "is it smart to keep walking in this darkness? We have to get somewhere, but I don't know if we'll find anything blind." She turned to Omar, seeking advice for whether they should stop or not.

OOC: No worries, if you had replied I would be compulsively replying rn instead of studying for my own two tests tomorrow xD good luck on everything!