Who: Dorian and Zod
What: Dorian Gray being a snazzy dandy immortal and going for a stroll.
Where: Outside the Luxor.
When: Now.
Warnings/Rating: TBA
Dorian Gray was abroad. At first, he wasn't sure he liked the sensation. He was warm and safe in his comfortable rooms in London, or (very rarely) serene in his country home, and he was not a young man anymore, regardless of appearances. He did not find himself in the mood to travel, as to do so with his own mind was to find company, and he found that to be tiresome enough, after a while. Company came cheaply but sometimes cost him more than coin, and while immortality made Dorian a patient man, it didn't make him an empathetic one. Here, in Las Vegas (oh, he recognized it, yes he did), everyone had other things to do.
The streets of the desert froze over, Dorian put on a coat, dove gray with daisy yellow accents. A monster smashed through the buildings, Dorian moved away for quieter pastures, heading toward the end of the Strip where a massive black pyramid crouched. People ran in screaming crowds, Dorian stood aside to watch them pass, leaning on the walking stick he had been holding moments before arriving in the Passages Hotel with no explanation. Standing in the center of the frozen boulevard, a knee akimbo in the neatly straight-legged trousers and his free hand idly stroking the length of his watch chain, Dorian surveyed the magnificent statuary, no doubt meant to mimic that in Egypt.
"Impressive," he said, eying the building as the lindworm tore pieces out of hotels not half a mile away.
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