There now exists a world where the colour of your blood defines you; and there certainly isn't much room for different in the year 2138.
Suki Kione has known for a long time now that there's a clock on her life, one that runs a lot quicker than that...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Our arrival has a flurry of mixed emotions swirling through me. I'm finally here ... the beginning of my forever. I stand somewhere in the center of initiates as we all stare at our surroundings, taking in what we must now call home. We weren't allowed to visit any other Divisions besides our own and so about half of us, which excludes those who grew up here are still trying to take in the change in environment.
It's beautiful.
It's quite literally a breath of fresh air, so different from my Kru, or rather my ex-Division. We move passed the large, metal gates to be greeted by a smaller version of the capital. Apartment buildings stretch up from all around, loft after loft stacked atop one another to house as many people as possible.
I watch the locals going about their daily business, large numbers of them stopping to watch the new comers. There's nothing calm or serene about this place. Everyone is constantly moving. They're loud, extremely expressive and their moods range from bubbly to brooding.
Gorgeous fountains lay in what I assume is a town square of some sort and part of me feels like this must be the hub of Air Kru. I look around to see large fields in the distance and a massive factory. What exactly it's for, I can't seem to make out?
"What's that?" I find myself asking, beckoning to the bot in my head.
'I believe that's where they clean out the air,' she responds.
It's sensory overload.
It's all so far from home and all that I know, but even with how bold and loud these people seem to be with each other there's a sense of family here. I see it in how there are smiles all over as they tease each other or walk young children to school and the saying, 'It takes a village to raise a child,' couldn't make more sense to me.
There's a defining feature here and it's that almost everyone has something that stands out about them. From bold haircuts to their tattoos and scars that they've chosen to let heal the slow way, it's intriguing. I thought I understood the spirit of these people from spending all those hours staring out the window of a moving bus, but here they're different than anywhere I've seen them. It's nice.
I take note of the one thing that I believe to be common amongst them. All the women have tattoos on their hands. Intricate swirls and sharp lines that look like they must've taken hours to ink, whereas the men have inkings down the length of their right arms, cutting off at the wrist. I watch, my heart warming at the sight of elderly, rich men and woman walking around with their children, bodies still strong and proud.
I make out a rink of some sort that rests on my left and there are numerous banners that boast the symbol that represents this clan: the White Wind Bird.
We're herded forward, walking towards an area that looks like someone dug a hole out of the ground and built an amphitheater within its confines. There's a fire crackling in the center of the structure and I move ahead as I'm pushed by others behind me. I take a seat somewhere in the stands.
