Day 1 Night

[12npcs]

[ Over the murmur of conversations, explorations and violent attempts at escape, there comes a sound tick tick tick tick tick.............. CLICK.... The sky above snaps across the dome from blue to black... and everything goes dark.

A glow comes from the front door of each of the inns and one by one, you can see street lanterns begin to light up steadily past each of the gates.

The only flickering, organic light comes from above in the tower, spluttering high, high above everyone, through the slats of the closed shutters. After a moment, it's gone. ]

Comments

[devotedtothecore]

[ the scrape of footsteps over paving stones, and a familiar voice from behind. ]

At the least, that we're still 'inside' seems confirmed.

[tearsinnajar]

[She drops her gaze and turns her attention to him.]

And it looks like we can count out the idea of an aerial rescue.

[devotedtothecore]

[ not happy is written all over his face. ]

...a rescue... are there any who'd notice your absence?

[tearsinnajar]

[Elena is less than enthused as well. None of this is making any sort of sense. She hasn't caught hide nor hair of Sully, which worries her. Especially considering how she last saw him in a plane.]

... Yeah.

[And after a brief moment of contemplation, adds:]

Family.

[devotedtothecore]

[ ...something in his eyes softens with understanding. He glances aside at the closest lamppost, sober, studying the light. ]

I see. ...they would raise an alarm, then?

[tearsinnajar]

[She takes note of that and gives him a small, but reassuring smile. She understands.]

No, he's more of a 'do it yourself'-er.

[devotedtothecore]

[ Unsure whether to laugh at that or not. Settles for a wrinkled brow. Wryly: ]

That seems the quicker recourse, anyway.

...

[ blinks. Ah, that's right. Eying her again. ] My name is Chrysos. Of Corehaven.

[tearsinnajar]

[Puts out her hand for a hearty, professional handshake.]

Elena Fisher.

[devotedtothecore]

[ a hearty, professional handshake it is. There's a few callouses on his palm and fingers, not at all unlike those an auto mechanic might have. ]

Your trade, Miss Fisher?

[tearsinnajar]

[Her hands have their share of callouses as well, although not as many as some. But she clearly puts her hands to work.]

I'm a journalist.

[devotedtothecore]

[ Passing strange, for someone who writes... Her clothes are a little different from what fashion he's familiar with in the city, too. ]

Of what print? Or do you freelance?

[tearsinnajar]

Associated Press, but I have considered going freelance again lately. Anyway, I mostly work in visual media—television, internet.

[devotedtothecore]

...television? Internet?

[tearsinnajar]

You've never heard of those? This may sound weird, but when are you from?

[devotedtothecore]

[ ..."when"? ]

It was.... nine of the evening? If you mean the date, it was the fifteenth of Goust.

[ a pregnant pause. ]

...King's Year one-nine-six.