monsters still in our time
In Grant Park, somewhere far from the crucifixion site, far enough that you can't even see the yellow police tape, Bean is sitting at a table. On and beneath the table are boxes and boxes of T-shirts, in all different sizes and colors. All of them have the phrase "Wanderer? Fine by me" printed in bold letters on the fronts. Bean herself is wearing a pink one, as well as a determined look. She meant to do this sooner; she's been working on this idea for the last half of the summer, and spent most of her summer savings getting the shirts made.
Now is a good time, though.
She's also got a small box of woven and beaded amulets on sale, since she figures people are going to need them now more than ever. She's nervous, but she's hoping that the other amulets in her pocket, as well as the German Shepherd sitting rigidly next to the table in his service dog vest, will dissuade any members of the CLF or their sympathizers who should happen by. She's sold a few T-shirts already, so she's feeling rather good about the situation.
Elsewhere in the park, Dev is sitting on a bench, reading The Prince by Machiavelli, and looking just the tiniest bit grim. He rather liked Bambi Dalton; hence reading, as a distraction. Next to him a shiny metal toaster is propped on the bench, its cord curled around it like a tail. If you listen closely, it almost sounds like it's purring.
Propped on the toaster is a prosthetic finger, which might look familiar to certain individuals. He has been carrying the finger around lately, searching.
Over at the Main Gauche, in the courtyard, Metis is lying on a bench and smoking, just staring at the sky. He has hit a snag in his writing and is trying to work through it in his head.
It doesn't help that his mind keeps returning to the fact that someone was actually crucified, in this day and age, in this city. And this so soon after the trial.
Now is a good time, though.
She's also got a small box of woven and beaded amulets on sale, since she figures people are going to need them now more than ever. She's nervous, but she's hoping that the other amulets in her pocket, as well as the German Shepherd sitting rigidly next to the table in his service dog vest, will dissuade any members of the CLF or their sympathizers who should happen by. She's sold a few T-shirts already, so she's feeling rather good about the situation.
Elsewhere in the park, Dev is sitting on a bench, reading The Prince by Machiavelli, and looking just the tiniest bit grim. He rather liked Bambi Dalton; hence reading, as a distraction. Next to him a shiny metal toaster is propped on the bench, its cord curled around it like a tail. If you listen closely, it almost sounds like it's purring.
Propped on the toaster is a prosthetic finger, which might look familiar to certain individuals. He has been carrying the finger around lately, searching.
Over at the Main Gauche, in the courtyard, Metis is lying on a bench and smoking, just staring at the sky. He has hit a snag in his writing and is trying to work through it in his head.
It doesn't help that his mind keeps returning to the fact that someone was actually crucified, in this day and age, in this city. And this so soon after the trial.