Maybe here I can be alone with my thoughts... Characters: Storm, OTA who can actually get to where she's lurking. Setting: The roof of the American International Building, NYC, 66 floors up Content: Ve zhall zee Summary: Storm's more than just a little tired of people, and this is as good a place as any to not run into any of them, unless they can fly, or walk on walls, or ... in general be exactly the sort of people she's not in the mood to see.
66 floors up, a gothic spire just behind her to lean against, a tall fence not terribly far away, and the nighttime skylight of Lower Manhattan spanning out in front of her, 'Ro growled. She hunkered down, arms around her knees. Thank god she had enough control to fly with some regularity, or this trip wouldn't have worked.
Sunset was gone, and she was alone. Three days she'd been back. Explaining what she had seen, what had happened and trying to deal with the fact that she was now relatively sure that she might actually be Storm, no matter how impossible that seemed, all of it was overwhelming. Right now, she didn't want to be Storm. She didn't want people in her head, and she really really didn't want to see some card carrying bastard or his green haired slut.
"Fuck all of them," she muttered softly, sinking her head on her knees.