Prideview Random

What? Well then, this is intriguing. New York. I should really leave Dickens alone for awhile. Who knew once such as me could be so caught off-guard. Ah Mon Dieu! What about Quinn? And Louis? And David! What will they think when they cannot find me!?

WHEN THE HELL DID SOME HALFWIT BITCH STEAL MY WORDS! WHO EVEN IS THIS THIS...I'M GOING TO GO RIP HER THROAT OUT!

Well, well, well, isn't it so nice that people from the old homestead do just keep turning up? It is turning into quite the family reunion with Romana and the Rani. I imagine soon there will be a party with cake, jelly and ice-cream and balloons.

It wouldn't be a proper reunion without balloons, would it?

Don't worry little humans, I haven't forgotten about you just because there are more Gallifreyans around. I have lots of little surprises in store for you! I just don't think you'd enjoy them too much, balloons never seem to go very well with funerals.

What an interesting little conglomeration this place has...and yet I have still managed to become bored.

I have no idea why I am up in the light of day or where I am other than this is obviously Louis' place...considering the decor...and that fact he is asleep on the bed. I almost forget how striking he is at times. How beautiful he is when peacefully asleep. No matter where our journeys take us our paths always cross again, if only he would admit it was because he adores me.

Ugh. What's going on? Why am I surrounded by breathers?

New York City.

How intriguing.

Since it seems that I'm stuck here for awhile, I figure an actual introduction rather than an overused expression for being lost and fucked up is in order.

My name is Chloe Sullivan, and I'm from Smallville, Kansas. Well, I was born in Metropolis, but whatever. I'm a college student and journalist. I'm not particularly tall, or maybe most of my friends are just taller than me because I'm often the shortest girl around. So if anyone here is shorter than me, I like you already.

This whole being inexplicably transported to a random apartment building in New York City thing is kind of messed up, but coming from the meteor capitol of the world, a girl is used to that. Still, I can't help but wonder how exactly something like this happens, and if it happens a lot.

Call me curious.

If you don't mind sharing, what is everyone's story here?

Who are you? What brought you here? Did you come here by choice or did you suddenly find yourself here? What do you do? Do you wish to find a way home?

Maybe this will be a good place to hide out. Find people.

Always wanted to see New York.

There comes a time in your life that you have to put down your notebook, stop surviving on roomservice waiters and find yourself somewhere to hang your pens up.

Or something that sounds more profound - angels, devils, possibly poodles if you're into faust.

The taste in my mouth remains. Have you ever had something so sweet? Such a memorable taste on your tongue that you thought your taste buds were dancing? The nectarine so delicious. The papaya. The fruit with the flowing juices. Feel them as they dribble down your chin. Tongue ebbing forth to lick the remains of this fleeting nectar. As I lie in my bed I can only think of the flavour. Remark in my mind the remembrance of textures and smells. The longing, the craving, how do these things over take the mind? How can we find an addiction in a substance that carries not addictive properties? How can we lose ourselves in this peculiar vice? This taste eternal?

Hello New York, let me whisper in your ear?

I am not amused.

Oh this is indeed curious. Remind me to be more careful the next time I go around exchanging people's bodies and heads.

This is not amusing. And very confusing.

How am I in this body?

New York City, how quaint.