will you come with me? are you down to turn your world around?
The common room on the fifth floor of the Kashtta Tower has transformed from a room merely filled with couches and a TV to an amoebic mass of pillows and blankets. When one looks into the room, it's hard to tell there's much in the way of furniture at all, but underneath the pinned-and-tied-together blankets is what's usually there, plus all the pillows that could easily be stolen from various rooms (other couches may be suspiciously devoid of cushions), a couple movies, a bag of chips, and the final touch: a Babel.
There are also some markers and a notebook from the everpresent messenger bag, because she's decided she's going to doodle while she waits for Certain Peoples to show up, but that's beside the point.
In front of the Conrad, the angel is huddled, doing his usual smoking thing. He's finally given up on the idea of staying out of somewhere, and he can only sleep in the subways when he manages to convince people that he's totally not staying there all night, really, which usually isn't very conducive to getting a lot of sleep. And it's too cold to stay in the park (besides, there's all these snowball fights, and no thanks). He's not really sure how he's supposed to get into the basement of this place, and really isn't sure he wants to be there, but it's better than freezing to death. So for now he's going to lurk, occasionally peering in the windows, and try to work up the courage to go in and...he doesn't know, ask at the front desk? That seems like a silly idea.
Arlin is in Grant Park, and has been for most of the day. He's been working on an ice sculpture that incorporates several trees and a lot of icicles. The icicles are joined together into one long ice-string that arcs between various low-hanging branches (he only had to climb into two of the trees a couple times to get it to work), eventually looping back and twining through itself. It's not as intricate as his usual artwork, but it's also meant to be more temporary. It was more of an experiment than a machines, anyway. On occasion, as he climbs into the low-hanging branches of a tree, a pieces of it will fall down from another, and with a grumble in whatever language springs to mind first, he'll go fix that. It's an ongoing project, really.
Not too far away, in downtown Chicago, Hiroto exists. He got sick of staying holed up in the Gauche, and he'd decided he wasn't going to let a little thing like 'angel territory' stop him from exploring the interesting bits of Chicago. However, he is regretting leaving his katana behind in the interests of appearing as though he cared about the treaty, because the Rift seems to have spat an Abominable Snowman onto the downtown sidewalk. And the longest weapon he happens to have on him is his nightstick.
Well, he could shoot it, but as he doesn't have any money to get more ammo, well, why waste that when he can bash it to death anyway?
There are also some markers and a notebook from the everpresent messenger bag, because she's decided she's going to doodle while she waits for Certain Peoples to show up, but that's beside the point.
In front of the Conrad, the angel is huddled, doing his usual smoking thing. He's finally given up on the idea of staying out of somewhere, and he can only sleep in the subways when he manages to convince people that he's totally not staying there all night, really, which usually isn't very conducive to getting a lot of sleep. And it's too cold to stay in the park (besides, there's all these snowball fights, and no thanks). He's not really sure how he's supposed to get into the basement of this place, and really isn't sure he wants to be there, but it's better than freezing to death. So for now he's going to lurk, occasionally peering in the windows, and try to work up the courage to go in and...he doesn't know, ask at the front desk? That seems like a silly idea.
Arlin is in Grant Park, and has been for most of the day. He's been working on an ice sculpture that incorporates several trees and a lot of icicles. The icicles are joined together into one long ice-string that arcs between various low-hanging branches (he only had to climb into two of the trees a couple times to get it to work), eventually looping back and twining through itself. It's not as intricate as his usual artwork, but it's also meant to be more temporary. It was more of an experiment than a machines, anyway. On occasion, as he climbs into the low-hanging branches of a tree, a pieces of it will fall down from another, and with a grumble in whatever language springs to mind first, he'll go fix that. It's an ongoing project, really.
Not too far away, in downtown Chicago, Hiroto exists. He got sick of staying holed up in the Gauche, and he'd decided he wasn't going to let a little thing like 'angel territory' stop him from exploring the interesting bits of Chicago. However, he is regretting leaving his katana behind in the interests of appearing as though he cared about the treaty, because the Rift seems to have spat an Abominable Snowman onto the downtown sidewalk. And the longest weapon he happens to have on him is his nightstick.
Well, he could shoot it, but as he doesn't have any money to get more ammo, well, why waste that when he can bash it to death anyway?