ᴇᴍᴍᴀ ғʀᴏsᴛ (anancites) wrote in witchinghour, @ 2015-08-06 23:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: clint barton, character: emma frost |
I will keep quiet you won’t even know I’m here
WHO: Emma Frost & Clint Barton
WHEN Thursday
WHERE: Grimoire
WHAT: Emma and Clint meet & locate the hospital.
WARNINGS: To Be Determined (but horror game + Hospital? Yeah.)
STATUS: In Progress
The trip through the trail was a slow one, Emma wasn't used to long walks in Jimmy Choo's, nor did she care for the terrain, but she'd be damned if she was remaining in that ruined mess of crap. She didn't even tolerate that after prison, and she'd be damned if she lived in it where she hadn't chosen it. The other end of that trail wasn't much better than the town previously, although this one was much bigger, more of a city than a town, prepared to be a bustling draw in a county or state. She could see it fitting within her own world.
It certainly seemed more comfortable.
The streets were still deserted, save for the occasional sound of wheels, which eventually was revealed to be a bus. At least she thought it was, since it stopped down the street for nothing before continuing on. How very quaint.
After walking for what felt like forever, she was absolutely getting the number of that bus, next time it came around she'd figure the hell out where it went by getting on it to get off her feet for ten damn minutes. At least until she noticed the large red sign. Hospital.
She was wary, the last hospital was a no-go area, everyone and their friend warned against it. But she had a fucking blister and damn it, they should have some cream for that here. Not exactly an emergency procedure, but it was a damn important one. Her telepathy was still shaky, but her diamond form was perfect, should she need it, she could use it. Steeling her breath, Emma stepped up to the automatic doors, entering the hospital to a decidedly anti-climatic lack of disaster, screaming or attempted mutilation. "Hmm..." How disappointing, not that she was looking to be mutilated, once was enough, thank you.
Her heels clicked on the linoleum flooring, the harsh lights already making her roll her eyes as she walked to the reception desk. It was an obviously mechanical receptionist that sat there, not exactly what Emma was looking for, so she simple walked past it, through to the hall way, where she rather suddenly met with a solid block of shoulder. "Fabulous place to stand, dear."