Put on your pretty lies / You're in the city of wonder [[ Open ]]
Characters: Neal, anyone who wants to follow him, some unexpected guests
Time: After sunset, Tuesday
Location: Hard Rock Hotel to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and then Undertown
Content: As if disappearing hotels weren't enough to contend with, now the underground is acting up for some mysterious reason...
Format: Prose/action
Warnings: The usual.
He knew what he had seen. That smile, those blue eyes, that dark bone-straight hair...she had just been out of his reach. How long had it been? He remembered the fire, the smoke and the heat, and the concussive explosion as the plane in front of him exploded, taking his girlfriend and his promise of a future with her with it. He had seen it and remembered vaguely Peter pushing him to the ground, turning him away from the blast...and then...
This place. It wasn't right. He still wondered whether or not this was a result of the blast - a terrible, twisted dream too fantastical to be real. He shouldn't be surrounded by monsters that crept from under beds and out of closets, that leapt from gothic literature as if it were some poorly planned movie. That wasn't his life - it would never be his life...
So why...why was he...
And so the lone figure continued his brisk pace down Michigan Avenue, his firm steps on the salt-strewn pavements echoing loudly in the near dead of night. There was a complete lack of emotion on his face, not even a grimace from the hearty winds that blew bitingly cold air around him. It may have seemed strange, even in the cheery holiday lights - this Chicago was already deserted for the most part after dark, a ghost town save for the literal ghosts of yesteryear, passing by and disappearing just as quickly.
He seemed to neither notice nor care. A destination was set - he simply had to be there.
Time: After sunset, Tuesday
Location: Hard Rock Hotel to the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and then Undertown
Content: As if disappearing hotels weren't enough to contend with, now the underground is acting up for some mysterious reason...
Format: Prose/action
Warnings: The usual.
He knew what he had seen. That smile, those blue eyes, that dark bone-straight hair...she had just been out of his reach. How long had it been? He remembered the fire, the smoke and the heat, and the concussive explosion as the plane in front of him exploded, taking his girlfriend and his promise of a future with her with it. He had seen it and remembered vaguely Peter pushing him to the ground, turning him away from the blast...and then...
This place. It wasn't right. He still wondered whether or not this was a result of the blast - a terrible, twisted dream too fantastical to be real. He shouldn't be surrounded by monsters that crept from under beds and out of closets, that leapt from gothic literature as if it were some poorly planned movie. That wasn't his life - it would never be his life...
So why...why was he...
And so the lone figure continued his brisk pace down Michigan Avenue, his firm steps on the salt-strewn pavements echoing loudly in the near dead of night. There was a complete lack of emotion on his face, not even a grimace from the hearty winds that blew bitingly cold air around him. It may have seemed strange, even in the cheery holiday lights - this Chicago was already deserted for the most part after dark, a ghost town save for the literal ghosts of yesteryear, passing by and disappearing just as quickly.
He seemed to neither notice nor care. A destination was set - he simply had to be there.