(no subject)
Grant Park appears to be a popular spot today.
In the morning, Peter Burke is taking his daily run. Then, rather suddenly, he's not running anymore, but flat on his back as he hits the two-mile separation mark. He'd thought he'd had a few feet to go, but either he wasn't keeping track as well as he thought or Neal isn't where he was, because apparently he was wrong.
He's just going to be down here for a moment, until his head stops spinning from being pulled back abruptly and he recover his dignity a little bit.
In the early afternoon, Abigail Eddings is wandering the park, dripping wet and looking lost. It was raining about half an hour ago, you see, and though she had her umbrella then (she's lost it since, in her daze), some unfortunate timing lead to her being soaked by the side of the road. This wouldn't be a problem, really, except for the fever she was running in the morning, the one that got worse after her class when she healed her teacher of the sore throat that was creeping up on him. Being out in the rain didn't really help that. So now she's shivering and she's frustrated, because she knows where she is and she knows how to get home from here, but she can't remember where she was going, or how to get there from here.
She'll still take people, though. She likes people. She just might be a little preoccupied and a little feverish.
And in the later afternoon, Remus Lupin is on a bench with his journal. He's not writing, though, but drawing. He's pretty good at it, though there's definitely room for improvement, especially on humans -- he's not much for drawing portraits, but there's a couple of passerbys drawn in among the multiple and various animals.
He's finishing up the drawing of a lion when the rift decides that it should be dark right now, at least in Grant Park, and brings on nightfall at a ridiculous speed, plunging the park into darkness. Only about half the streetlamps flicker on. That's probably the rift's fault as well. At least Remus seems to have decided it is, because he heaves a sigh, settles back against the bench, and mutters to himself, "Bloody rift."
In the morning, Peter Burke is taking his daily run. Then, rather suddenly, he's not running anymore, but flat on his back as he hits the two-mile separation mark. He'd thought he'd had a few feet to go, but either he wasn't keeping track as well as he thought or Neal isn't where he was, because apparently he was wrong.
He's just going to be down here for a moment, until his head stops spinning from being pulled back abruptly and he recover his dignity a little bit.
In the early afternoon, Abigail Eddings is wandering the park, dripping wet and looking lost. It was raining about half an hour ago, you see, and though she had her umbrella then (she's lost it since, in her daze), some unfortunate timing lead to her being soaked by the side of the road. This wouldn't be a problem, really, except for the fever she was running in the morning, the one that got worse after her class when she healed her teacher of the sore throat that was creeping up on him. Being out in the rain didn't really help that. So now she's shivering and she's frustrated, because she knows where she is and she knows how to get home from here, but she can't remember where she was going, or how to get there from here.
She'll still take people, though. She likes people. She just might be a little preoccupied and a little feverish.
And in the later afternoon, Remus Lupin is on a bench with his journal. He's not writing, though, but drawing. He's pretty good at it, though there's definitely room for improvement, especially on humans -- he's not much for drawing portraits, but there's a couple of passerbys drawn in among the multiple and various animals.
He's finishing up the drawing of a lion when the rift decides that it should be dark right now, at least in Grant Park, and brings on nightfall at a ridiculous speed, plunging the park into darkness. Only about half the streetlamps flicker on. That's probably the rift's fault as well. At least Remus seems to have decided it is, because he heaves a sigh, settles back against the bench, and mutters to himself, "Bloody rift."