Who: Pscipolnitsa (Lady Midday) & Open! Where: Coffee shop near Central Park. When: Wednesday 3/31, ... Midday. Warnings: See "who" -- language, otherwise TBA.
Pscipolnitsa was out the door fifteen minutes after she'd woken up with sun in her eyes at 11:20 AM. After sprucing up her hair and making sure every part of her was in place (double-checking to make sure parts of her weren't literally crumbling to the floor into a pile of dust), she'd tossed on the nearest black jacket whether or not it was hers and headed out into the cool Spring air. She had to take a moment now and then to shake wheat flowers from her hair. The girl couldn't catch a break. But oh! Sunshine.
'Nitsa inhaled pleasantly, and as far as a typical passer-by could tell, she was an average fourteen to sixteen year old girl on her way (late) to school. She even had a backpack. Of course, most teenagers in this area didn't carry specially made gardening shears or a spare change of clothes specially packed for that remote chance she'd return home with blood in her hair.
There was a spirited bounce in her step, a lightness in her eyes and an overall sense of relief that the sun had finally come. Woe be to he (or she) who interrupted her strangely content enjoyment of early Spring and the partly sunny skies. Lady Midday had not been outdoors since the winter solstice in December. She stopped at a coffee shop near Central Park, flopping down into a chair at one of the outdoor tables.
She smiled thinly, sweetly, and slurped an over-sweetened, iced mocha. Loudly and obnoxiously. As she kicked her feet up to rest lazily on the table's edge, the clock struck noon.
Patrons of the coffee shop would, for one hour, find it nearly impossible to sate their thirst.