I know what the Nogud are. I know how I got here, where they come from, what they are like, and most importantly, that I am responsible for them.
I want to move beyond the eight villages and see what's left of the world, eight-hundred years after the cataclysm, but first I have to make sure that they are safe and cared for; and loved, if possible. Exploring the world of the thirtieth century will wait. Maybe not long, but until I find them anyway.
I'm going to find the remaining 'Little Sisters' and make sure that they are taken care of. All of them will come to Bonvale, or to my house in Goldenwood, and they'll be given the life that they were meant to have. For the next few days, I would listen and watch and hunt.
This morning, I'm at the cafe. Antonio knows the villages and the women better than I do. So first, I'll listen to him. And ask questions. And make a plan. This horrid tradition of the women called Nogud, forced to hide from humanity in these tunics and hoods, was ending. Irene was dead.
Today was the eighteenth day since I'd arrived in the village of Bonvale. Prior to that I'd been in an induced hibernation for a little over eight-hundred years, since the time of the cataclysm involving the eruption of the super-volcano in Yellowstone and the subsequent massive earthquakes along the west coast subduction fault. The cataclysm started in the year 2070; it was now 2903, as far as we could figure, 833 years later. And today was Friday.
Before I left to explore the world, and hopefully find evidence of what happened to my family, I had to spend some time being patient: and watching.
I want to move beyond the eight villages and see what's left of the world, eight-hundred years after the cataclysm, but first I have to make sure that they are safe and cared for; and loved, if possible. Exploring the world of the thirtieth century will wait. Maybe not long, but until I find them anyway.
I'm going to find the remaining 'Little Sisters' and make sure that they are taken care of. All of them will come to Bonvale, or to my house in Goldenwood, and they'll be given the life that they were meant to have. For the next few days, I would listen and watch and hunt.
This morning, I'm at the cafe. Antonio knows the villages and the women better than I do. So first, I'll listen to him. And ask questions. And make a plan. This horrid tradition of the women called Nogud, forced to hide from humanity in these tunics and hoods, was ending. Irene was dead.
Today was the eighteenth day since I'd arrived in the village of Bonvale. Prior to that I'd been in an induced hibernation for a little over eight-hundred years, since the time of the cataclysm involving the eruption of the super-volcano in Yellowstone and the subsequent massive earthquakes along the west coast subduction fault. The cataclysm started in the year 2070; it was now 2903, as far as we could figure, 833 years later. And today was Friday.
Before I left to explore the world, and hopefully find evidence of what happened to my family, I had to spend some time being patient: and watching.
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