(no subject)
Mar. 16th, 2019 12:17 pmAnastasia still doesn't know how to feel when they return to their suite in a Fulcrum City hotel. It's too early for relief. No matter how pleased the others were at dinner, no matter how well things technically went, a stopgap isn't a solution. She's still standing there with her finger in the dyke, stalling for time.
But they have time. And she'd be lying if she said it wasn't just a little bit satisfying to imagine Goddard stomping home to sulk. He'll probably get right down to making everyone around him miserable, but at least that's the worst he can do. He doesn't have the entire Midamerican Scythedom under his influence, yet -- and if things go well on Endura, he never will.
She lets her focus drift as she heads toward the en-suite bathroom, wondering what Endura will be like. She's heard stories, and figured she'd visit it sooner or later, but not this soon. And definitely not under these circumstances. 'Bringing an inquest before the Grandslayers' is a far cry from 'going on vacation with Marie.' She wonders if they'll be able to actually enjoy the visit, or if she'll be too busy worrying about the inquest to take in the sights.
Probably the latter, if she's being honest with herself.
As she steps into the bathroom, everything shifts in an eyeblink, the space before her blowing out to encompass an entire city street. Anastasia reels, trying to set her hand on a door frame that no longer exists and instead just batting at the empty air.
"What--?" is the only word that escapes her before she catches herself. She is a Scythe. Scythes don't panic in the middle of a public thoroughfare. She takes a slow breath, then steps back out of the flow of foot traffic, where she can look around without being in the way.
This isn't Fulcrum City. Everything looks too... old-fashioned. The cars are all being driven by actual people, and there's no sign of the Thunderhead's ubiquitous array of cameras. The road has holes in it, as if someone dug up chunks of the pavement with a spoon, a bizarre detail that occupies a full five seconds of her attention. Where on earth would something like that be allowed to exist without being repaired?
Is... is this Texas?
But they have time. And she'd be lying if she said it wasn't just a little bit satisfying to imagine Goddard stomping home to sulk. He'll probably get right down to making everyone around him miserable, but at least that's the worst he can do. He doesn't have the entire Midamerican Scythedom under his influence, yet -- and if things go well on Endura, he never will.
She lets her focus drift as she heads toward the en-suite bathroom, wondering what Endura will be like. She's heard stories, and figured she'd visit it sooner or later, but not this soon. And definitely not under these circumstances. 'Bringing an inquest before the Grandslayers' is a far cry from 'going on vacation with Marie.' She wonders if they'll be able to actually enjoy the visit, or if she'll be too busy worrying about the inquest to take in the sights.
Probably the latter, if she's being honest with herself.
As she steps into the bathroom, everything shifts in an eyeblink, the space before her blowing out to encompass an entire city street. Anastasia reels, trying to set her hand on a door frame that no longer exists and instead just batting at the empty air.
"What--?" is the only word that escapes her before she catches herself. She is a Scythe. Scythes don't panic in the middle of a public thoroughfare. She takes a slow breath, then steps back out of the flow of foot traffic, where she can look around without being in the way.
This isn't Fulcrum City. Everything looks too... old-fashioned. The cars are all being driven by actual people, and there's no sign of the Thunderhead's ubiquitous array of cameras. The road has holes in it, as if someone dug up chunks of the pavement with a spoon, a bizarre detail that occupies a full five seconds of her attention. Where on earth would something like that be allowed to exist without being repaired?
Is... is this Texas?