Fish, a short and pasty-skinned young man with a wicked case of bed-head, is currently putting on public display his ability to be somehow pointy and soft at the same time, as well as his seasonal wardrobe, which can easily be summed up by the word 'overdressed'. He's sitting on a ledge bordering a garden, the stone slabs just wide enough for his ( Read more... )

Sometimes, if her role as the presidential bodyguard allowed it, Leela would watch the twin suns setting from the top of the highest building in the Capitol ( Read more... )

He's not any thinner, but maybe it just looks that way because of what he's wearing. Or not wearing. Clinic-issued spare clothes, sweatpants in heather grey, a t-shirt that kind of falls over one of his shoulders. Bandages everywhere, wrapped around his neck, his arms, from elbow to the palms of his hands. Before he used to paint his face to make ( Read more... )

The woman sitting on this bench looks comfortable enough, certainly. She's thin and on the tall side-- a woman whose elders promised her for fifteen years she would "grow into" her gawky body but who never quite made it there-- long red hair loose down her back except for a scarf around her head, dressed down (by 1944 standards) in a heavy cardigan ( Read more... )

He's been exploring the city cautiously for a while, in stages -- he's been living with Clar in her semi-isolation for some months now, and if he spends too much time in Xanadu he gets whiplash. At the moment he's skirting the edge of one of the parks (the one, as it happens, that contains the statue that's going to weird him out when he gets to ( Read more... )

Within such a sprawling city, there must be such a place for trees and grass and whatnot. It is only the natural order of the world, which... ever one someone may happen to be from, and in fact, it's highly probable there's many parks to be found if one looks long enough ( Read more... )