![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
[ You have fallen onto a noisy street. After all the cold, the silence, the cacophony of city sounds blankets your ears muffles that feeling of abandonment. The street is dirty, and neon all around you advertises: Gambling! Fight pits! Come get your money's worth, restaurants, bars. They demand attention, and you could walk into any one of them.
Or, you might notice the alley ways before you enter. On the ground there's bodies: chalk outlines around those twisted at strange angles. Like crime scene photos, but you know how you got here. And if you look at the bodies too long, you can see the echo: shadows that are pale rather than darker, of missing wings upon their back.
The crowds on the street take no notice of you, or those bodies. ]
Or, you might notice the alley ways before you enter. On the ground there's bodies: chalk outlines around those twisted at strange angles. Like crime scene photos, but you know how you got here. And if you look at the bodies too long, you can see the echo: shadows that are pale rather than darker, of missing wings upon their back.
The crowds on the street take no notice of you, or those bodies. ]
Re: A Bar
Re: A Bar