Work Text:
The citizens of Pauper's Drop were not a happy people. They were not revolutionaries like the people trapped in Apollo Square, they were not the rich who paraded through Olympus Heights, they were poor and they were hopeless.
Ask any citizen of Pauper's Drop what they think of Andrew Ryan and the answer will remain the same, Ryan is a con man. He promised each person a successful life, a comfortable home, a fulfilling job, and a city which finally let them win. The people of Pauper's Drop never saw the utopia they were told of, they scrubbed toilets, gutted fish, and went home to the dank overcrowded apartments of the Sinclair Deluxe.
The Sinclair Deluxe, for the people of Pauper's Drop, was overpriced and insulting. Sinclair never even visited Pauper's Drop, not once. His hotel was built without a visit by the man in charge. He approved the design, ordered some people to construct it, and slapped his name on the sign without ever seeing the sign in place. This only made the people of Pauper's Drop feel more isolated and more unwanted.
So they painted clouds on their bedsheets and on their ceilings with whatever paint they could find, and they spliced, getting stronger and tougher to kill, and they decided that they would be like cockroaches so hard to kill that they would refuse to die until they saw the sun again. They spread out under the bedsheets hung on the rafters, they looked up at the drooping images of blue skies and white clouds and held their loved one's hands and pretended with all their hearts that the towels they lay on was grass. Before they closed their eyes to sleep they prayed for dreams of anything but Rapture- please anything but Rapture.
Sofia Lamb was a sharp beacon of hope to the sad spliced citizens of Pauper's Drop. She came in with words like bleach and hair coifed like clouds and the hearts of the people of Pauper's Drop couldn't help but believe her, it was the only thing they could do. They draped blue fabric over their walls, and accidentally pricked their fingers on their butterfly pins each morning, and respected the mayor Sofia appointed even if they didn't understand the reason behind any of it. They made shrines, and graffiti, and followed Lamb and Grace until their feet hurt from revolution. Lamb didn't seem any more charming or promising then Ryan once was, but they pulled the wool over their eyes, gripping it tightly over their face so it could not budge and they hid from the similarities between Ryan and Lamb and prayed for salvation.
They tried their best for happiness, they worshiped the lamb all day and held their loved one's hands and shone flashlights on the bedsheets on their ceiling when they could not sleep at night. They had struggled and worked under Ryan and that had not work but the altruism and community of Lamb felt empty. Their lives were not sunny, they could not feel the grass in their toes, or the breeze in their hair, they were still in Rapture and they wanted anything but Rapture- please anything but Rapture.
The citizens of Pauper's Drop were never meant to be fighters, they were never meant to be rich, they worked and they tried like they were told they should but they were poor and they were hopeless. The citizens of Pauper's Drop were poor and hopeless and people, and they were not happy people.