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trans_92010-02-14 07:47 pm
toariversodeep.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-02-14 07:47 pm
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Saturday night's all right for fighting
Roxie has set up a simple scenario in the Sensoriums: salt flats, stretching out to the horizon, quiet and boring. The air is temperate; the sky is clear and blue; and the densely-packed salt is firm enough to walk on easily. To run away or hide here would be practically impossible.
She waits, arms crossed. She's gotten worse since the last time she ventured out in public—the occult glyphs scarred into her skin have started to turn gray, as if with the touch of colloidal silver. Her plantsuit—the second she's gone through, by now—has an odd black tinge to it. And her jacket... it's not fraying anymore, but the stitching has all been replaced with red threads. It's a weird contrast against the blue denim.
She waits for the people she's talked to—or anyone else—to show up.
She waits, arms crossed. She's gotten worse since the last time she ventured out in public—the occult glyphs scarred into her skin have started to turn gray, as if with the touch of colloidal silver. Her plantsuit—the second she's gone through, by now—has an odd black tinge to it. And her jacket... it's not fraying anymore, but the stitching has all been replaced with red threads. It's a weird contrast against the blue denim.
She waits for the people she's talked to—or anyone else—to show up.