mirror mirror, on the wall, what do you give someone who has it all?

[scorchtheground]

Hiroto is bored. He's spent awhile, a week or so, learning the ins and outs of this Chicago place, and so far what he's learning is that he doesn't like it much. Too many rules, not enough outs for when he breaks them. And as far as he can tell, his family isn't nearly as powerful here as they were back home, which means he can't just go back to

Comments

[allmydiredreams]

Babel notices the hair-smoothing, grins, and leans over to fluff up his hair again. If she can make life imitate her art, well, she's gonna, dammit. Then she puts a few finishing touches on the monsters, like more blood to make it very obvious that Des-person is killing them bitches and killing them good, not that they're besting him or anything, no sir.

She nods at his question, a little sombre all of a sudden. "Tastes of the apocalypse tend to do that to people, make them look at their mortality," she says, eyeing the drawing and then sticking it to the seat across the way from them. "Stare at the abyss, it gives you the evil eye and then suddenly everyone remembers there are things in heaven and hell greater than their philosophy." Ignore the fact that she mangled that quote. She cares not.

"But the fog's clearing, now," she remarks, leaning on the back of the seat Des is leaning on, gesturing to what you can see of the city between the papers she's tacked on the windows. It's not the prettiest sight, but it's there. "Things rebuild."

[nothingsodivine]

Des laughs and tries to move away from her hand, but doesn't really get too far out of fear of falling off the seat. He scoots back over to see the additional blood being added and grins. Oh yeah, his drawing!self is badass, fluffed hair or not.

His expression droops a bit and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. "Ain't that the truth." He keeps forgetting that mortality isn't just for other people, that heaven and hell are more like concepts in this place, and that nothing is as it really seems here. Four thousand years and maybe he'll understand everything that's in this place like he did his world, but he doesn't have that much time. It's a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, but one he's also content to cover up.

He follows her gaze out the window and his smile returns, just faintly. Mortal or immortal, the fact that things continue on is always easily appreciated. "Life goes on," he murmurs. "Cities burn, people die, but this much is forever."

This city's probably never going to fall. At least something here is immortal, even if he's not.