[Tuesday, around the time of a certain couple's momentary disappearance. Still from the abandoned office building, curled up on a torn and half-unstuffed couch, Muerte feels something shiver through Gotham. There's still enough of the supernatural left to her that she's sensitive to something going on. It turns her stomach for just a second, and she frowns as she looks toward the broken window, almost expecting to see something, but nothing's there.
Exactly a minute later it happens again, and the second time is worse. The city shudders around her and leaves her gasping and digging her fingers into the sad cushion underneath herself. It takes her a bit to recover from that one, and she looks toward the window again. More long minutes pass while she works up the energy to unfold from the couch and make her way over, peering out at the city through the glassless frame. The city is as quiet as it ever gets, no sirens or shouting in response to what felt (to her) like an earthquake. Fingers digging into the sill for a while, she finally makes her way back to the couch and her journal. Her name stubbornly remains Em when she writes, and it shows up public.]
Gotham, did anyone else feel that? Earthquake, maybe? [After a few replies that say no one else felt anything, she crosses it out, though it's still visible, as are the comments.]