::| The Age of Aquarius |:: (private)

"This is a fuckin' fab pad, man." The brunette takes a drag of her hand-rolled cigarette and throws a hand out to indicate the rusty, gutted shack. Her hair is long, dirty, and barely held back by the thin hemp twine tied around her forehead. She was born Amanda Abelowicz but changed her name to 'Sage' as soon as she was able. Her parents didn't understand and kicked her out of the house after she came back for winter break in ratty jeans and sprouting new philosophies on life.

Her story isn't unique. Most of her ragtag group faced prejudice nowadays. Hell, anyone different from the 'norm' did. But, they didn't let the Man keep them down. Not for long anyway.

"I can hear Mother Nature sing to me." Chase, the red head, sways in a circle, arms outstretched. Her mouth opens as she vocalizes a pretty little ditty. Her feet quickly pick up a heavy layer of dust as they dance on the roughly hewn floor.

"Can she sing a little quieter? Some people have protest speeches to write." In the corner, an African-American woman with daisies in her large afro sits, curled up with a ragged notebook in her lap. She is authoritive and eloquent with a proud tilt to her chin. Sage and the others elected her as the voice of the group and she hasn't failed them once.

"Aw, let'er sing, man. When is the other tribe comin', Sage?" The sole man in the group looks up from where he is fiddling with his rawhide vest fringe.

"They were s'ppose ta arrive before us." Sage frowns and hikes up her traveling bag. "Don't sweat it though, they're really boss cats, ya dig?"

"Yeah, I dig." He takes a drag of his joint.