出没: [visual | location: around Taxon]
It is, by decree of the narration and various conflicting timelines, the day after the party. River has come and gone, and in some combination of a missed dose somewhere in the excitement, the excitement itself, and the simple abundance of it in such a short span of time, she's still awake well into the day.
Awake and completely incapable of staying in one place.
The party dress and jewelry has been traded in for the usual practicality (with the addition of pants, for the sake of warmth and the presence of a pocket in back that will suitably hold her pen) and the ribbon in her hair falls out sometime around nine a.m. Taxon time to land on a street corner in Shelley.
Later, while running her hand along an iron fence in Central, the visual clicks on for a few seconds to broadcast the trr-thrr-clunk-thrrr of River's passing hand before it clicks off again.
More importantly, after a tram ride and a very messily hatched peach (without pit, sans skin; apparently the two elements were connected but she eats it anyway and now the end of her hair is sticky) River finds herself at a greenhouse full of flowers humming wordlessly in warm contentment and surrounded by chattering trees, full of life and blood and complaining endlessly. About the bends in their roots and knots in their sides, overextended and underdeveloped. Patient. She sits with them a while (climbing is an urge to be resisted, they'd never be quiet then) and then leaves with a few stolen greenhouse roses pricking her hand.
Catch her while you can, Taxon. She's about to be in a lot of trouble.
Awake and completely incapable of staying in one place.
The party dress and jewelry has been traded in for the usual practicality (with the addition of pants, for the sake of warmth and the presence of a pocket in back that will suitably hold her pen) and the ribbon in her hair falls out sometime around nine a.m. Taxon time to land on a street corner in Shelley.
Later, while running her hand along an iron fence in Central, the visual clicks on for a few seconds to broadcast the trr-thrr-clunk-thrrr of River's passing hand before it clicks off again.
More importantly, after a tram ride and a very messily hatched peach (without pit, sans skin; apparently the two elements were connected but she eats it anyway and now the end of her hair is sticky) River finds herself at a greenhouse full of flowers humming wordlessly in warm contentment and surrounded by chattering trees, full of life and blood and complaining endlessly. About the bends in their roots and knots in their sides, overextended and underdeveloped. Patient. She sits with them a while (climbing is an urge to be resisted, they'd never be quiet then) and then leaves with a few stolen greenhouse roses pricking her hand.
Catch her while you can, Taxon. She's about to be in a lot of trouble.