OOC:This thread takes place roughly one week after the events in
Bombs over Vale. A short summary is as follows:
Not long before Hallow's Eve celebrations, two predominantly Faunus apartment buildings in Vale's residential district were destroyed in an act of domestic terrorism. The bombs which brought the buildings down sent shockwaves, both physical and psychological, throughout much of the surrounding city. Many students of the academy and other noble souls rushed to the scene and saved who they could, but the scale of the tragedy dwarfed even the greatest of individual efforts. There are reports that a rooftop gun battle unfolded shortly after the bombs went off, but this hasn't yet been confirmed by city or kingdom officials.
The death toll is still being counted. Fear and distrust are at an all-time high. No one knows what's going to happen next, or when the next tragedy will unfold.
Every so often there came those moments, those quiet, reflective moments when everything seemed to hit all at once... when the hustle and bustle of the day-in-day-out gave way like the ground at the edge of a cliff, leaving Rory wondering whether
this was the time he would fall off the edge and finally break. It
almost felt like that -- he could feel the internal tension, like a sting pulled so tight it begins to fray, resting just below his conscious awareness, a shadow on the back of his mind. The difference being,
this was no quiet moment.
If anything, it was the opposite of that. The bakery was a flurry of activity, all hands on deck. The sun was still an hour from coming up but virtually everyone who could make it in was there, baking, cooking, and prepping up a storm. Normally the place would only get so busy
this early leading up to the winter holidays or the Vytal Festival (when it was in Vale), but today was... a very
different occasion. A week ago Vale had been struck without warning by bombs which had brought down two apartment buildings. People had died, mostly underprivileged Faunus who had called the buildings home. The city was left reeling. Human-Faunus tensions were potentially at their lowest ebb since the days of the Revolution, and virtually everyone in the city seemed to be on edge. It was still hard to believe it was real... that
any of the races of Remnant would commit such senseless violence against the defenseless and unsuspecting. A page in history had turned...
... and Mr. Chadwick seemed
determined to meet the new era with...
bread.
"C'mon everyone, keep up the pace! Make every crust and flake
count!"
Rory couldn't help but roll his eyes as he heard his boss and landlord shout from the far side of the kitchen. Still, it wasn't as stupid as it might seem. The night before he'd had the whole thing explained to him: Chadwick was partnering with a number of other local businesses to donate large quantities of foodstuffs and other essentials to the survivors of the bombings as well as raise money for a crisis relief fund. Breads, however, were perishable -- the foods best suited would be canned or preserved. Instead,
'Fabled Goods' would be focusing on the fundraiser aspect. A permit had been secured at a popular park in the commercial district where
'Fabled Goods' and a few other vendors would be setting up stalls. 100% of the day's profits would go to the victims' relief fund, and the collective business owners had vowed to match every single Lien earned out of their own pockets. It was a goodwill mission, of sorts... or it would be, if everything went well.
At least it was a Saturday. Rory couldn't imagine trying to fit this level of crazy in along with classes.
Three hours later and the first van full of baked goods and setup supplies was arriving at the park. It wasn't far from here to the site of the collapsed building, where rescue crews were still clearing away rubble to look for bodies... and pray, against all odds, for more survivors. The young shieldbearer, still wearing a flour-caked cooking apron with the store logo on it, worked with his boss to set up a tent along with tables, chairs, and a register along one of the park's main walkways. It seemed so... serene, so at odds with what he knew had unfolded just across the river. The peace and quiet felt
wrong somehow, made all the worse by the intermittent chirping of songbirds in the distance. So many dead... and yet the world just
carried on.
" 'Ey, eyes up kid." Chadwick must've caught the depressive look in his eye. "Don't forget why we're here, ok?"
"... To give people hope." He intoned dryly, repeating his boss' words from the night before. He couldn't muster the same enthusiasm as Mr. Chadwick -- it just wasn't there. When the bombs hit he'd had his nose buried in a book at the academy library; by the time he'd heard about what happened the entire scene was cordoned off by police with no one allowed through. While people had been
dying and
fighting for their lives, he'd been safe and oblivious. The pang of guilt hit like a brick to the chest -- wasn't he supposed to be a Huntsman in training? And yet he'd arrived too late to help anyone. How the hell was
bread and
hope ever going to make
that okay?
"People need three things to get by in life." It was the start of another of Chadwick's well-used speeches -- Rory knew what was coming and could've said the rest himself, but instead he busied himself putting sample pastries in display trays while his boss spoke his peace. "Food, hope, and each other. Today, we're gonna do our best to give them all three."
'You forgot water, air, clothes, housing, defenses, and safety.' The student thought bitterly, but he didn't speak a word. Deep down he knew that his boss had a point. If no one stood up and made an effort to help the victims it would just look like humanity didn't care about the Faunus. That perceived apathy -- or worse, disdain -- would just drive more into the arms of hate groups like the White Fang. The bombings would become a rallying cry:
see how the humans treat us, destroying our homes and leaving us to starve. One thing Rory knew was history, and this pattern had played out over and over again. A show of aid and goodwill wouldn't convince everyone, of course... there was no guarantee it would even change anyone's mind. But not at least
trying was the same as giving up...
Slowly, Rory looked up and met his boss' gaze. This wasn't heroic, but it was
something.
"I'll do my best, sir."Chadwick smiled. "I know you will. Remember -- we've got plenty of stock and more on its way, so don't skimp. Police, EMTs, and anyone who was there helping people or has victims in their family gets their order for free if they want. Talk up the donations as well. Anything people are willing to give helps, but we're here to help those who need it above all else."
"... Isn't that going to run our actual sales a bit slim?""Don't sweat it. I was planning to pad out our sales numbers pre-match anyway -- benefit of running the shop is I can use my own money to help things along when needed." He chuckled at his own generosity. "You've got the helm here Rory. I'll be back with the second wave and a couple extra hands as quick as traffic'll allow. Ok?"
Despite himself, Rory managed a faint, forced smile.
"Can do boss."Anything could happen with a day like this, he knew. The whole arrangement could go sideways. They could get trouble from protesters on either side of the Faunus rights fight... or both. Nothing was a given.
But that didn't mean you couldn't face it with your head held high.
Topic: Bread over Bombs [OPEN] (Read 6640 times)