[Open] I scream, you scream...
Who: Break, Quorra and/or anyone who wants to find her loitering around
When: August 7th
Where: The marketplace
Format: Starting out in prose, but open to any format!
What: Quorra wants ice cream, invites people, including Break, to go with her. Fun ensues. (Hopefully.)
Warnings: None? Separate threads would be great, though!
Old habits died hard, in that since the city-wide riots, Quorra hadn't been out and about much. Not at street-level, anyway. She was much more comfortable up on the rooftops, where she could see...well, not everything, thanks to the fog, but more than she would otherwise. So she took the rooftop path to the Marketplace, hesitating for some minutes before climbing down a drainpipe to the ground.
She peeked out from the mouth of an alleyway. She remembered seeing feeds of the mob, of people caught in the madness, of that strange woman and the child that had ended it all. Since then, Anatole had been reasonably quiet, but Flynn had always taught her to err on the side of caution - not that it had always worked - and in this case, she had.
She hadn't been to the Marketplace in a while.
It seemed pretty quiet, though, so after waiting another moment, Quorra left the alleyway and peered around, looking for the fruit stand and the man she'd agreed to meet.
Everyone liked ice cream, after all.
When: August 7th
Where: The marketplace
Format: Starting out in prose, but open to any format!
What: Quorra wants ice cream, invites people, including Break, to go with her. Fun ensues. (Hopefully.)
Warnings: None? Separate threads would be great, though!
Old habits died hard, in that since the city-wide riots, Quorra hadn't been out and about much. Not at street-level, anyway. She was much more comfortable up on the rooftops, where she could see...well, not everything, thanks to the fog, but more than she would otherwise. So she took the rooftop path to the Marketplace, hesitating for some minutes before climbing down a drainpipe to the ground.
She peeked out from the mouth of an alleyway. She remembered seeing feeds of the mob, of people caught in the madness, of that strange woman and the child that had ended it all. Since then, Anatole had been reasonably quiet, but Flynn had always taught her to err on the side of caution - not that it had always worked - and in this case, she had.
She hadn't been to the Marketplace in a while.
It seemed pretty quiet, though, so after waiting another moment, Quorra left the alleyway and peered around, looking for the fruit stand and the man she'd agreed to meet.
Everyone liked ice cream, after all.