See the devil on the doorstep now, my oh my
Cy is back in Grant Park, chunnering away to herself while she digs around the base of Buckingham fountain. She is looking for her sunlight-marble. She distinctly remembers having it here--though whether she had it here when she went with the fox or whether she had it here when she was left is an open question.
Aniki is wandering Cicero after the news of the latest high-profile death. She started on the other side of town that morning and now, in the afternoon, has ended up here. She stops to stare at some CLF graffiti, and decides she's had enough of babysitting like a good little girl. It's time to start a hunt of her own.
Abby is in the Kashtta lounge. She is sick. This may be because she hasn't slept since her adventures in stupidity with SpyDaddy. This may be because she hasn't slept and is stressed as hell thanks to all this CLF business on top of... everything else. This may simply be because it's that time of year. Either way, she is wrapped in fleece pjs, a fuzzy robe, and tucked under a blanket. Rex is keeping her company by laying, curled up, behind her head.
Elsewhere in the Kashtta, Ragnar is exploring. Or. Well. More accurately, he is getting lost. He never has had the best sense of direction--he relies more on instinct than actual perceptiveness. He pauses at a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city, sighing. "I will say this: it is a fine view. A fine view indeed. One could do without the numerous halls which lead to it, however."
Ruvin, meanwhile, is in the common room of the Conrad's basement. She's in the area furthest from the doors, set up to paint. There's a set of brushes hanging from a little rack by hooks screwed into their ends, a shallow dish of water, a palette, and a set of watercolor paints. It took her a while to track down the proper kinds of brushes and watercolors. On a slate on the floor there's a napkin. One of the expensive cloth kind, stolen from upstairs. On her left there's several more, blank. On her right, there are three already painted. With minor variation they all show the same image--the same one she's working on again now.
It's a valley, surrounded by green mountains and seen through the frame of two gold-barked trees with red blossoms in their branches. In the valley is a city, the walls pale except where the sun hits them. There they are a multitude of soft colors overlaid by bronzey-gold. The city is built in a set of five concentric circles, each one a different pale color, each one separated from the others by a wall. In the center lies a park that, thanks to the size of the napkin, looks miniscule--and even smaller, at its center, a set of buildings that rise like tiny cathedrals from the trees.
Ruvin's good at this kind of painting. More than that, it relaxes her. She's practically expressionless as she works. Her entire focus is on the draw and flick of the paint brush over the surface of the cloth, varying quick and steady movements like a hummingbird hovering over a flower bed.
Aniki is wandering Cicero after the news of the latest high-profile death. She started on the other side of town that morning and now, in the afternoon, has ended up here. She stops to stare at some CLF graffiti, and decides she's had enough of babysitting like a good little girl. It's time to start a hunt of her own.
Abby is in the Kashtta lounge. She is sick. This may be because she hasn't slept since her adventures in stupidity with SpyDaddy. This may be because she hasn't slept and is stressed as hell thanks to all this CLF business on top of... everything else. This may simply be because it's that time of year. Either way, she is wrapped in fleece pjs, a fuzzy robe, and tucked under a blanket. Rex is keeping her company by laying, curled up, behind her head.
Elsewhere in the Kashtta, Ragnar is exploring. Or. Well. More accurately, he is getting lost. He never has had the best sense of direction--he relies more on instinct than actual perceptiveness. He pauses at a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the city, sighing. "I will say this: it is a fine view. A fine view indeed. One could do without the numerous halls which lead to it, however."
Ruvin, meanwhile, is in the common room of the Conrad's basement. She's in the area furthest from the doors, set up to paint. There's a set of brushes hanging from a little rack by hooks screwed into their ends, a shallow dish of water, a palette, and a set of watercolor paints. It took her a while to track down the proper kinds of brushes and watercolors. On a slate on the floor there's a napkin. One of the expensive cloth kind, stolen from upstairs. On her left there's several more, blank. On her right, there are three already painted. With minor variation they all show the same image--the same one she's working on again now.
It's a valley, surrounded by green mountains and seen through the frame of two gold-barked trees with red blossoms in their branches. In the valley is a city, the walls pale except where the sun hits them. There they are a multitude of soft colors overlaid by bronzey-gold. The city is built in a set of five concentric circles, each one a different pale color, each one separated from the others by a wall. In the center lies a park that, thanks to the size of the napkin, looks miniscule--and even smaller, at its center, a set of buildings that rise like tiny cathedrals from the trees.
Ruvin's good at this kind of painting. More than that, it relaxes her. She's practically expressionless as she works. Her entire focus is on the draw and flick of the paint brush over the surface of the cloth, varying quick and steady movements like a hummingbird hovering over a flower bed.