She has -- at least some what, changed her focus from finding the remaining survivors of the parade district to cleaning up the streets. People were angry, it was understandable -- she had been angry too, when she was forced to be taken off of her joy. It took her longer than she’d like to admit to come to her senses, to get over her anger and make sense of what was happening to the world around her.
Once she did, however, it was for the better. These people would come around, too. If, that is, they all don’t leave right away. She did notice a few stragglers who were either too shocked or horrified to make a decision on if they should stay or if they should go.
She ended up finding that a lot of the people she considered her friends were the same people who ended up abandoning the parade district, perhaps they had felt betrayed and hurt by what had been done. The same, so it seems, couldn’t be said for the scrawny six foot something Arthur Hastings that she catches among the debris of their district. He was almost unrecognizable to her now, though. He looked so... tired.
❛ Arthur Hastings? ❜ he wasn’t someone that Victoria had expected to say. He had always seemed so happy and dependent on his joy. Like everyone else, of course, so she had expected him to leave with the majority as well. ❛ It’s good to see you. I’m glad to see that you’re --- well, alive. ❜ || @toooldforgermany liked.
