[party post] she climbed backwards out her window into outside over there.
Once upon a time, there was an alternate city of Chicago, the lovely people residing in it, and many Rifts placing these people into various different predicaments, spanning from the humorous to the perplexing to the utterly heartbreaking. Wondrous different people, of all shapes and sizes. So it has been, and so it will be, for years and lifetimes to come.
These Rifts, it has been explained to the wanderers finding themselves invited in, are made possible due to the torn fabrics of various worlds and universes. Time twists itself into something malleable. Reality blurs along with the unknown. Breaks in space and time are created, through which absolutely anything one could possible imagine falls through. Turns real.
Nothing is impossible, after all, if it exists within the imagination.
At midnight of October the 14th, the tears in the fabrics between the Rift's world and Otherworlds becomes increasingly thin. More so than usual. More so than lately. The particular magical world it melds with is a timeless one, recognizable to manythe realm of fariytales. Magic stumbles through the cracks, storybooks are spun throughout its veils, and the Rifts welcome their fairytales.
Fairytales that are lovely and lead to happy endings. Fairytales that are scary and cruel and dark with no ending to be found.
Faeries that are mischievous. Faeries that are evil. Dragons that can be slain. Dragons that cannot.
Realities blend together. Elsewhere is nowhere, and nowhere is everywhere.
For the entirety of a week, the Rifts are breathing life and fire and magic with its telltale stories, waiting. Waiting.
These Rifts, it has been explained to the wanderers finding themselves invited in, are made possible due to the torn fabrics of various worlds and universes. Time twists itself into something malleable. Reality blurs along with the unknown. Breaks in space and time are created, through which absolutely anything one could possible imagine falls through. Turns real.
Nothing is impossible, after all, if it exists within the imagination.
At midnight of October the 14th, the tears in the fabrics between the Rift's world and Otherworlds becomes increasingly thin. More so than usual. More so than lately. The particular magical world it melds with is a timeless one, recognizable to manythe realm of fariytales. Magic stumbles through the cracks, storybooks are spun throughout its veils, and the Rifts welcome their fairytales.
Fairytales that are lovely and lead to happy endings. Fairytales that are scary and cruel and dark with no ending to be found.
Faeries that are mischievous. Faeries that are evil. Dragons that can be slain. Dragons that cannot.
Realities blend together. Elsewhere is nowhere, and nowhere is everywhere.
For the entirety of a week, the Rifts are breathing life and fire and magic with its telltale stories, waiting. Waiting.