Fool me once.
Who: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and Maya Fey.
When: Today! Wednesday. Toward the late afternoon, before sirens.
Where: Sector 9 street.
Summary: Maya's literally lost, Wolfwood's metaphorically lost, and they're both stuck in the rain.
Warnings: Shouldn't be any?
[he wasn’t ever going to be used to this. ever, ever, ever. the rain, that was-the rain and the entire city, with all of its fog and clouds and general no-sun (one sun), and the only reason he dragged his feet out the door in the morning had to of been from a misplaced sense of continued survival.]
[also because he’d never been too good at wallowing, and the rain and the city and the general dream-feel of it all poised no reason to him to start brooding right then. better to get involved; had the Punisher slung over his shoulder (wrapped up), a destination in mind (Sector 9’s smaller shelters: the fanatical Churches seemed to overlook them, and the old women who ran the place were open to newcomers so long as they helped and didn’t eat), a sure step. a quick step, really, since he still wasn’t so sure he liked the feel of continuously soaked clothing. dogged along the farside of the sidewalk, maybe had a thought or two over the envy of those umbrella things other, smarter people were carting around, but mostly, he just walked.]
[maybe he’d try catching a bus the next time around. but for that, he’d actually have to figure out how the currency worked…]
[caught up in such fuzzy thoughts, it was a wonder he managed to keep an eye out on his environment at all times. but, well - he did.]
When: Today! Wednesday. Toward the late afternoon, before sirens.
Where: Sector 9 street.
Summary: Maya's literally lost, Wolfwood's metaphorically lost, and they're both stuck in the rain.
Warnings: Shouldn't be any?
[he wasn’t ever going to be used to this. ever, ever, ever. the rain, that was-the rain and the entire city, with all of its fog and clouds and general no-sun (one sun), and the only reason he dragged his feet out the door in the morning had to of been from a misplaced sense of continued survival.]
[also because he’d never been too good at wallowing, and the rain and the city and the general dream-feel of it all poised no reason to him to start brooding right then. better to get involved; had the Punisher slung over his shoulder (wrapped up), a destination in mind (Sector 9’s smaller shelters: the fanatical Churches seemed to overlook them, and the old women who ran the place were open to newcomers so long as they helped and didn’t eat), a sure step. a quick step, really, since he still wasn’t so sure he liked the feel of continuously soaked clothing. dogged along the farside of the sidewalk, maybe had a thought or two over the envy of those umbrella things other, smarter people were carting around, but mostly, he just walked.]
[maybe he’d try catching a bus the next time around. but for that, he’d actually have to figure out how the currency worked…]
[caught up in such fuzzy thoughts, it was a wonder he managed to keep an eye out on his environment at all times. but, well - he did.]