So it begins [Active/Open]
Characters: Doctor Angelicus, anybody who would like to come across her
Setting: A street corner, somewhere.
Time: Early afternoon.
Summary: She's a little freaked out, busy trying not to panic. You know what helps with panic? Walking. You know what doesn't help? Falling off the curb because you forgot how to walk.
Warnings: None.
The cell phone message had been moderately helpful, but without actually explaining anything she wanted to know. She was back to the way she'd looked before the distortions began. That had to mean that God was no longer mad, which meant the boy had finally succeeded, didn't it? But there was no Neuro Tower, so what did that mean? There were no listings for the Order of Malkuth in the phone book, either, and her desk had been scattered with newsletters from some Christian church she'd never heard of. The dates were all wrong.
She had to get out of this unfamiliar place that was supposed to be home; even if the city was unfamiliar, that was easier to handle. After taking a minute to remember how (it had been years since she'd had to think about it) she'd thrown some clothes on and run a brush through her hair, and then picked up her keys and left. Locking the door behind her was almost automatic, and the fact that she had that automatic knowledge unsettled her.
She walked. Briskly, with purpose though she wasn't going anywhere, with her head down. She remembered how to walk, at least. It had been a long time for that, too. The floating had grown into something normal, something she didn't even need to think about, and the idea of walking now was strange and alien.
At least she remembered the ways of cities well enough. This wasn't the first one she'd ever lived in. She knew to cross at crosswalks and wait for lights, and to look both ways before crossing a street. She'd forgotten how to step off of curbs, though, and how to step up them. The first time she stepped off a curb she just barely managed to keep from falling into the street and nearly twisted her ankle in the process. On the opposite curb her foot hit the concrete and she went sprawling forward, catching herself with her hands.
The slightest wince crossed her face when she felt that strange sting. She gathered herself up, moving away from the curb to sit with her back against the light pole, and stared down at her palms. Blood seeped out slowly from shallow scrapes, and she just stared and kept staring, not knowing what to do. It hurt. It hurt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt anything like that before and she didn't like it and she didn't know what to do about it.
There was no telling how long she sat there against the streetlight, just staring at the blood oozing from her hands.
Setting: A street corner, somewhere.
Time: Early afternoon.
Summary: She's a little freaked out, busy trying not to panic. You know what helps with panic? Walking. You know what doesn't help? Falling off the curb because you forgot how to walk.
Warnings: None.
The cell phone message had been moderately helpful, but without actually explaining anything she wanted to know. She was back to the way she'd looked before the distortions began. That had to mean that God was no longer mad, which meant the boy had finally succeeded, didn't it? But there was no Neuro Tower, so what did that mean? There were no listings for the Order of Malkuth in the phone book, either, and her desk had been scattered with newsletters from some Christian church she'd never heard of. The dates were all wrong.
She had to get out of this unfamiliar place that was supposed to be home; even if the city was unfamiliar, that was easier to handle. After taking a minute to remember how (it had been years since she'd had to think about it) she'd thrown some clothes on and run a brush through her hair, and then picked up her keys and left. Locking the door behind her was almost automatic, and the fact that she had that automatic knowledge unsettled her.
She walked. Briskly, with purpose though she wasn't going anywhere, with her head down. She remembered how to walk, at least. It had been a long time for that, too. The floating had grown into something normal, something she didn't even need to think about, and the idea of walking now was strange and alien.
At least she remembered the ways of cities well enough. This wasn't the first one she'd ever lived in. She knew to cross at crosswalks and wait for lights, and to look both ways before crossing a street. She'd forgotten how to step off of curbs, though, and how to step up them. The first time she stepped off a curb she just barely managed to keep from falling into the street and nearly twisted her ankle in the process. On the opposite curb her foot hit the concrete and she went sprawling forward, catching herself with her hands.
The slightest wince crossed her face when she felt that strange sting. She gathered herself up, moving away from the curb to sit with her back against the light pole, and stared down at her palms. Blood seeped out slowly from shallow scrapes, and she just stared and kept staring, not knowing what to do. It hurt. It hurt. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt anything like that before and she didn't like it and she didn't know what to do about it.
There was no telling how long she sat there against the streetlight, just staring at the blood oozing from her hands.