| Confirmation |
[10 Jul 2009|01:37am] |
She placed the cardboard box that she had taken out of storage on the table and next to the leather bound diary with the unusual lock. The photos inside the diary and the passages that she had read so far had been on her mind for days.
Kathleen first thought this was a cruel joke, but it did not make any sense why Mr. Guevera would have gone through all this effort to fabricate this diary. It was not about her life, but of Kathleen Valentine, Her Majesty's Royal Inquisitor; wife of Logan Guevera; and daughter of John Valentine.
( Discovering the truth )
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| All Good Things Must Come to an End |
[10 Jul 2009|06:31pm] |
Like Las Vegas, the city of Chicago had learned to fear the sky.
Its residents knew of portals. Great rifts that opened between worlds, releasing entities and energies that could have no earthly origin. Some of the former had proven powerful enough to injure dozens, to tear down buildings and churn up the asphalt of city streets. But the latter were far worse than winged monsters or renegade demons. Energies could not be struck down by brave heroes with swords and stakes. They could not be hidden from. They could render monsters out of human flesh, make strangers out of lifelong neighbors, toy with people's personalities and lives.
In another city, a mysterious crackle of white energy might be viewed as a weather phenomenon. It might be a subject of wonder and awe. But here, in the shadow of Lincoln Park, people understood that rarely was such a disturbance benevolent.
When the writhing mass of electromagnetism appeared over Lake Michigan on July 10, 2014, people began to gather. The beach at the end of North Avenue offered the best view of what could just as easily be an apocalyptic event as an atmospheric fluke. As day faded into night, the portal that had caused so much chaos two years past only intensified in brightness and size.
Whatever it was, it awakened caution in multiple dimensions. Even heaven and hell felt the ripples of energy as the portal bulged, preparing itself for an explosion that remained a mystery even to demigods.
By the end of the night, an answer would come.
[Final Thread: Open to All!]
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| All or Nothing |
[10 Jul 2009|11:04pm] |
[Takes place just before 'All Good Things Must Come to an End']
Rhiannon pressed a doorbell. The sound went on forever.
She stepped back and braced her hands on her lower back. The Winters house loomed tall and wide, its brick clean, its trim freshly painted. The brunette didn't often find herself in such neighborhoods, where the door would be approached on soundless feet and opened by an employee rather than a familiar face. She felt strangely obvious on the porch. Flexing her elbows, she looked around and made eye contact with a woman next door, elderly, pruning a potted plant. Rhiannon lifted a hand. The woman lifted her gardening claw. "Okay then." She bounced on her toes and waited.
Bartholomew answered the door, in his usual attire, the 'British butler' look, one he couldn't avoid, even if he'd ever wanted to. He was used to receiving guests for Juliet at all hours of the day and night, unannounced in many cases, and he simply acknowledged the young woman he found standing on the doorstep with an appraising glance and courteous smile. Of late the young woman had been spending less time with her friends, and more time with her head in books, on the internet, or in the gym working out. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to arrange for equipment to be replaced, or had had to look into more sturdy designs. Especially since her 18th birthday, Bart had noticed a shift in Juliet's demeanour, the care-free sassyness he'd watched for years slowly dissolving away as she'd apparently taken up with some different people, a couple of them he'd seen when they'd dropped by, and nothing like the crowd the young miss normally socialised with.
"May I help you?" he asked the young, bouncing, woman.
( Important Things to Say )
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