[huh. she wonders, then, if the "escaped Abnormalities" are ones that tried to flee from their books while they had been out to help them fight - or if there is some other way to escape from the pages.]
That makes sense... it seems like anything that had some sort of special ability isn't functioning how it should. Just like how those of us who had powers of our own can't really use them here.
[there's a definite curiosity coming from her, but then - also a sort of uncertainty. she looks like she wants to ask something, but... ultimately doesn't.
[this one is labeled 'book of the backstreets', and seems to be a compilation of different stories. flipping to one gets her:
"If the 'Night in the Backstreets' were to be gone, the Backstreets will fall into even worse shape than before. In other words, the Night in the Backstreets is the rein that keeps this place in check. Because the Night exists, people here show the least amount of human decency.
Here's an example. You come home at the end of a hellish day. Dragging your weary body to the sofa, you hope to get a small break lying on the couch and watching cheap entertainment shows. But guess what happens. Some crazy jerk upstairs turns up their speakerphone's volume to the max and makes obnoxious noises that make your ceiling shake. Too bad, there goes your peaceful respite. You can't stand the noise that's getting to your head, so you decide to ask your neighbor to please be considerate and lower the volume. You want to talk this over without a fight, so you battle the furious urge a million times before you go upstairs. But then our unfriendly neighbor gives you a baffling reply when you confront them. 'I need some free time for myself too, I have gripes with my neighbors that I just live with, so you should do the same. Why make a huge fuss about the noise when it isn't even too loud, blah blah...' Talking out of their ass. What can you do, though? Barely keeping your boiling anger inside, you go back down to your house, covering your ears with a pillow and yelling curse words as you try to sleep. Even if you told your landlord about it, they'd shrug off your complaint and smile like a saint, so there's no use speaking up about it.
That's when the Night of the Backstreets comes into play. First off, you block the entrance to that shithead's house before they return. Anything works; you could weld the door, use wooden planks, padlock the door, or whatever. Ensure that they can't enter their own house by any means, and go back to your home. Some time later, they'll come back to find that the door to their house has been sealed shut; they'll struggle with the door before giving up. And they'll make a serious face as though they're trying to think of who could've done this ridiculous prank to them. Once they realize that it couldn't possibly have been anyone else's doing but yours, it'll be too late. Because you'll be behind them, bashing their head in with a brick or some heavy object. Killing them right now would obviously break the rules, so you drag them to your house and enjoy a quiet rest.
When the clock hits 3 AM, you drag the little shit outside and throw it in the middle of a relatively large street. You return to your home before it's too late and watch the scene from the window, The time is 3:13 AM; Sweepers crawl out of the dark and sweep the streets clean, collecting all the trash, including that noise pollutant."
he's glancing over to see what page it is, with a slight frown.]
It is. That's... more or less the reality that most of the City is used to. The only real safety is in the Nests, but even then-- being safe from things like the Night in the Backstreets doesn't mean you actually have a good life, or that you're happy.
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[huh. she wonders, then, if the "escaped Abnormalities" are ones that tried to flee from their books while they had been out to help them fight - or if there is some other way to escape from the pages.]
It must have been startling to find them here.
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That makes sense... it seems like anything that had some sort of special ability isn't functioning how it should. Just like how those of us who had powers of our own can't really use them here.
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[safe enough. kind of fucked up, but safe.]
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[there's that edge of discomfort again.]
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[there's a definite curiosity coming from her, but then - also a sort of uncertainty. she looks like she wants to ask something, but... ultimately doesn't.
instead, she picks up one of the other books.]
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"If the 'Night in the Backstreets' were to be gone, the Backstreets will fall into even worse shape than before. In other words, the Night in the Backstreets is the rein that keeps this place in check. Because the Night exists, people here show the least amount of human decency.
Here's an example. You come home at the end of a hellish day. Dragging your weary body to the sofa, you hope to get a small break lying on the couch and watching cheap entertainment shows. But guess what happens. Some crazy jerk upstairs turns up their speakerphone's volume to the max and makes obnoxious noises that make your ceiling shake. Too bad, there goes your peaceful respite. You can't stand the noise that's getting to your head, so you decide to ask your neighbor to please be considerate and lower the volume. You want to talk this over without a fight, so you battle the furious urge a million times before you go upstairs. But then our unfriendly neighbor gives you a baffling reply when you confront them. 'I need some free time for myself too, I have gripes with my neighbors that I just live with, so you should do the same. Why make a huge fuss about the noise when it isn't even too loud, blah blah...' Talking out of their ass. What can you do, though? Barely keeping your boiling anger inside, you go back down to your house, covering your ears with a pillow and yelling curse words as you try to sleep. Even if you told your landlord about it, they'd shrug off your complaint and smile like a saint, so there's no use speaking up about it.
That's when the Night of the Backstreets comes into play. First off, you block the entrance to that shithead's house before they return. Anything works; you could weld the door, use wooden planks, padlock the door, or whatever. Ensure that they can't enter their own house by any means, and go back to your home. Some time later, they'll come back to find that the door to their house has been sealed shut; they'll struggle with the door before giving up. And they'll make a serious face as though they're trying to think of who could've done this ridiculous prank to them. Once they realize that it couldn't possibly have been anyone else's doing but yours, it'll be too late. Because you'll be behind them, bashing their head in with a brick or some heavy object. Killing them right now would obviously break the rules, so you drag them to your house and enjoy a quiet rest.
When the clock hits 3 AM, you drag the little shit outside and throw it in the middle of a relatively large street. You return to your home before it's too late and watch the scene from the window, The time is 3:13 AM; Sweepers crawl out of the dark and sweep the streets clean, collecting all the trash, including that noise pollutant."
he's glancing over to see what page it is, with a slight frown.]
That's... pretty normal for the Backstreets.
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there's a lot to unpack here. nahida stares down at the books for a few long moments.]
It seems... dangerous.
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[oof... that's rough buddy.]
Is there some way to move away from the City, to somewhere safer? Or... some way of trying to change how things are?
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[it'd be some real post-apocalyptic shit if he knew what pre-apocalyptic shit was supposed to be like.]
We think there's a way to change it, though.
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