Solomon coughs and gets out a crumpled pack of smokes as he sits down very, very carefully in the middle of the street just outside the Wasteland. "I...I need to sit."

"How is every body?"

Salla is bloodied, with a large clawed gash taking up most of the left side of his face, and a variety of other bites and blood smears covering his shredded

Solomon is walking the streets. Hands stuffed deep into his leather jacket's pockets, watching the worn toes of his boots as he makes his way back vaguely toward his apartment.

Well.

How enlightening this has all been.

[OoWL: Gwen and Nicky are ill-met by moonlight.

HILARITY ENSUES.]

Karla...hasn't been out of the shelter much in the past few days.

Something's going on. She doesn't know what--doesn't care what so long as she can avoid getting involved--but there's been a general sense of increased edginess lately, a vibe that says it might be best to lay low for a while--along with the odd rumor that's probably exaggeration, ( Read more... )