(no subject)
She isn't the sort of woman you mess with, after dark or otherwise. Aniki's been in Chicago for several weeks already, sorting out the minutiae to better investigate the major issues. She has a job, paid under the table in paper currency that, no matter how she counts or spends, doesn't feel real. She has a home, more or less, over the club she works for. A sort of live-in security guard on top of her duties as a rusher.
A 'bouncer' she thinks with a snort. As though the occupation is some friendly game with air-filled pork bladders or something.
It's night time in Chicago and the wind cuts through her like a sword through an unguarded man's neck. She huddles forward, resenting her thin, cheap coat and her thin, cheap clothes and this gods-curst nightmare of a city and the gods themselves that dropped her into it.
She pauses under a streetlamp, squinting into the wind as her eyes water and the world trembles into a liquid haze.
She's lost.
Wonderful.
A 'bouncer' she thinks with a snort. As though the occupation is some friendly game with air-filled pork bladders or something.
It's night time in Chicago and the wind cuts through her like a sword through an unguarded man's neck. She huddles forward, resenting her thin, cheap coat and her thin, cheap clothes and this gods-curst nightmare of a city and the gods themselves that dropped her into it.
She pauses under a streetlamp, squinting into the wind as her eyes water and the world trembles into a liquid haze.
She's lost.
Wonderful.