Daisy notices Elizabeth as much as she notices anyone else. It's her habit to be observant of her surroundings, here in a strange city even more than before, which is saying something considering she was Columbia's most wanted. She's not known here, though - not yet, at least - and she takes the interest with which Elizabeth watches her to be either because she's still a relatively new face in Pauper's Drop, or because there's a fire in her eyes that hasn't been extinguished along with the hopes and dreams of the multitude of poor and disillusioned down here, who'd hoped for a new life of success and prominence in Andrew Ryan's wonder city.
She pays the younger woman little mind, then, as she continues on her way, weaving through alleys and backtracking when she sees a Big Daddy patrolling up ahead of her - nothing brought her greater sadness here than the glassy stares of the little girls with them, reaping the bodies of the dead for the ADAM that powered Rapture. These children were carrying the burden of the excesses of this society in the worst possible way, and she hated every citizen of Rapture for it, held them all accountable.
As she passes men and women of colour sleeping in doorways or scrabbling around in trash cans for a scrap of food or a drop of ADAM she feels her familiar righteous anger wash over her, and gives them a nod of solidarity and the few dollars she has on her. Seeing white people in the same desperate circumstances makes her a little uneasy, knowing that at least they'd have taken care of their own in Columbia and prevented them the disgrace of seeking work in Finkton with the blacks and Irish. The notion of just who is 'us' and 'them' has changed here, and Daisy doesn't like that it's not so neat and tidy when it comes to knowing what sort of person's on which side any more.
Eventually she arrives at her destination, which at first glance looks like nothing more than a derelict café, the neon sign long cracked and dirtied, the red and white checked tables and tiles covered with dust and debris. Daisy enters through a small side door and descends the stairs to the basement, where a throng of people are huddled inside, squashed in together tighter than a tin of Fontaine Fisheries sardines, all talking excitedly in hushed tones. The atmosphere in the room was electric, and despite her reservations about the man, even Daisy can't help but be carried away by the excitement when Atlas himself appears, standing on top of a mildewed crate as a platform and addresses the crowd, assembled in secret away from the eyes of Ryan and his security, to hear their leader speak of what Rapture could be for them.
She follows. It isn't at all eventful, not that she expected to be; a little part of her did think Daisy might cause some kind of stir, but it seems the woman has composure here, knows, somehow, what she's doing. Or, that's how to seems to Elizabeth, who keeps a distance with a frown. How long has the Vox leader been in Rapture, to seem so in control and not at all fazed by the city? What had the Luteces brought her here for (because it had to have been them, could only be them)? Their interference makes her irritable, but she's still curious, despite it all, and follows into the cellar of the building when Daisy disappears down its shadowy steps.
Elizabeth can barely breathe, let alone stand. There are more people in this small room than could possibly fit; they'd all be dead if someone accidentally fired off a round of Incinerate. The unknowing has her itch for a cigarette, but with the thought of fire hazard on her mind, she makes due with crossing her arms tight over her chest and watching the events unfold.
Daisy is there, too, of course, her attention on the handsome Irishman who appears at the front of the room. No wonder. They are the variables between Columbia and Rapture, the revolutionaries who claim better lives for the people. She knows little to nothing about the man called Atlas, but learned from experience that Daisy's cause wasn't as pure as she'd first wanted to believe. If Atlas is anything like her, if his followers are anything like the Vox...
Briefly, Elizabeth thinks of her first kill, of the little boy that she'd stabbed Daisy to save. Yet, here they both are in another world where similar events may be set into motion.
C'est la vie.
She watches intently as the speech goes on, her eyes not on the charismatic rebel, but on the dark-skinned woman off to the side.
Daisy listens, carried away by some parts of Atlas' promises and closing up at others, knowing from her own experience what should be focused on and what saved for later, what could hurt their cause rather than help it, and comes away feeling only somewhat inspired. There's so much she wants to say and do, but this isn't her battle to lead; she knows that the masses won't listen to anyone but the charismatic Irishman now.
As the speech finishes and people begin to trickle out, Daisy hesitates, heading toward the front to make some comment or ask a question, and then decides against it, doubling back toward the door. It's then, as she turns, that her eyes lock with Elizabeth's, and for a long second she just stares as though she's seen a ghost.
In the end, she shakes her head. "Can't be," she says aloud, more to herself than anything, but now that she's seen her she can't see unsee her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She pays the younger woman little mind, then, as she continues on her way, weaving through alleys and backtracking when she sees a Big Daddy patrolling up ahead of her - nothing brought her greater sadness here than the glassy stares of the little girls with them, reaping the bodies of the dead for the ADAM that powered Rapture. These children were carrying the burden of the excesses of this society in the worst possible way, and she hated every citizen of Rapture for it, held them all accountable.
As she passes men and women of colour sleeping in doorways or scrabbling around in trash cans for a scrap of food or a drop of ADAM she feels her familiar righteous anger wash over her, and gives them a nod of solidarity and the few dollars she has on her. Seeing white people in the same desperate circumstances makes her a little uneasy, knowing that at least they'd have taken care of their own in Columbia and prevented them the disgrace of seeking work in Finkton with the blacks and Irish. The notion of just who is 'us' and 'them' has changed here, and Daisy doesn't like that it's not so neat and tidy when it comes to knowing what sort of person's on which side any more.
Eventually she arrives at her destination, which at first glance looks like nothing more than a derelict café, the neon sign long cracked and dirtied, the red and white checked tables and tiles covered with dust and debris. Daisy enters through a small side door and descends the stairs to the basement, where a throng of people are huddled inside, squashed in together tighter than a tin of Fontaine Fisheries sardines, all talking excitedly in hushed tones. The atmosphere in the room was electric, and despite her reservations about the man, even Daisy can't help but be carried away by the excitement when Atlas himself appears, standing on top of a mildewed crate as a platform and addresses the crowd, assembled in secret away from the eyes of Ryan and his security, to hear their leader speak of what Rapture could be for them.
no subject
Elizabeth can barely breathe, let alone stand. There are more people in this small room than could possibly fit; they'd all be dead if someone accidentally fired off a round of Incinerate. The unknowing has her itch for a cigarette, but with the thought of fire hazard on her mind, she makes due with crossing her arms tight over her chest and watching the events unfold.
Daisy is there, too, of course, her attention on the handsome Irishman who appears at the front of the room. No wonder. They are the variables between Columbia and Rapture, the revolutionaries who claim better lives for the people. She knows little to nothing about the man called Atlas, but learned from experience that Daisy's cause wasn't as pure as she'd first wanted to believe. If Atlas is anything like her, if his followers are anything like the Vox...
Briefly, Elizabeth thinks of her first kill, of the little boy that she'd stabbed Daisy to save. Yet, here they both are in another world where similar events may be set into motion.
C'est la vie.
She watches intently as the speech goes on, her eyes not on the charismatic rebel, but on the dark-skinned woman off to the side.
pretend I tagged this earlier >_>
As the speech finishes and people begin to trickle out, Daisy hesitates, heading toward the front to make some comment or ask a question, and then decides against it, doubling back toward the door. It's then, as she turns, that her eyes lock with Elizabeth's, and for a long second she just stares as though she's seen a ghost.
In the end, she shakes her head. "Can't be," she says aloud, more to herself than anything, but now that she's seen her she can't see unsee her.