In a giant, cold room, you’re sitting criss-cross applesauce in a circle of young lowbloods, all recently orphaned, looking around with emotions ranging from scared to downright enraged. The meeting is supposed to 'inform young trolls of their new living conditions as culled members of society', as the "So, you've been culled. What now?" pamphlet you received a few days after your lusus’ passing said.

You lean towards the guy sitting next to you and whisper. "So, like... this is bullshit, right?" He gives you a scandalized look, before unloading a tsunami of words onto your fragile mind, of which you only really catch "highblood oppression". “Wait, wait, highblood oppression?” You snort. “Look at where they have us! Just waiting to be handed off to highbloods like stray barkbeasts!” He turns his nose at you. “Highbloods taking in lowbloods certainly isn’t a privilege for them, you know. It’s forced on them as well.”