(no subject)

[scythe_anastasia]

Anastasia 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?

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[scythe_lucifer]

Even after more than a year in this city, Rowan retains his hard-fought for skills and honed instincts. Only abject laziness would turn him into the boy that he once was, and even then... The nightmares that haunted him, the sometimes intrusive paranoia, the memories: those would stay with him always. So, despite looking like any other teenager in Darrow, when Rowan walks with a slight slouch it's intentional. When he has earbuds in place, they're on mute. When his eyes are focused on the sidewalk in front of him, they're taking in his periphery.

He catches a brief glimpse of someone stepping back from the sidewalk into an alleyway. Not that strange, except he knows that particular alley leads nowhere. So why is someone hiding in it?

It's still cool, spring only thinking about starting, so Rowan raises his head to casually pull his hoodie over his head. He tilts his gaze to the side as he passes the opening of the alley and...

...Just stops. Right in the middle of traffic. A woman passes by him, her dog on the other side, tangling his legs in the leash. He stumbles back, lifting his leg to get out of the mess, when another man walks straight into his back and makes him stumble forward.

They're both on their phones. This is useless.

But did he see...? He weaves between the two pedestrians now yelling at him like this is his fault to catch sight of the impossible figure.