Parks are dangerous. It's time we all learned this.
Babel's in Grant Park again. Along with Navy Pier and every coffeeshop ever, it's one of the top ten places one is most likely to find a Babel. This particular Babel is sitting in the middle of one of the paved walkways just on the edge of the more wooded parts of the park, because said paved bit is dry and not covered in snow, like that bench over there is. She's doodling in her notebooks and not paying all that terribly much attention to the goings-on around her, despite her back being to that more-wooded part of Grant Park. Hey, aside from the Rakshasa encounter in the notorious coffeeshop, nothing bad has really happened to her yet.
At the edge of a completely different park that isn't eating the city, however, there is an Arlin. He's not alone. He is, in fact, being warily circled by something that vaguely resembles a small bear, only with...more teeth. And a pointier muzzle. And last time Arlin checked, bears didn't have that many legs.
It's not currently doing anything, but he's not stupid. Tailing someone through a park and then circling them doesn't mean it wants to be friends. It means it wants to eat him. So he's circling back, trying to gauge how it'll react to whatever he might do, and regretting how long it's been since he fought an animal as opposed to a person.
And, in the shadows of an alley somewhere in the middle of Chicago, there is a large, hulking shape that appears to have two babies' heads and walk on spindly white arms, it's "feet" actually being hands. It's body is completely obscured by a dark brown cloak of some sort, and it's balancing on one handfoot, the other tucked up against the area where its chest should be. It's standing very still. It's been standing very still for a long, long time.
At the edge of a completely different park that isn't eating the city, however, there is an Arlin. He's not alone. He is, in fact, being warily circled by something that vaguely resembles a small bear, only with...more teeth. And a pointier muzzle. And last time Arlin checked, bears didn't have that many legs.
It's not currently doing anything, but he's not stupid. Tailing someone through a park and then circling them doesn't mean it wants to be friends. It means it wants to eat him. So he's circling back, trying to gauge how it'll react to whatever he might do, and regretting how long it's been since he fought an animal as opposed to a person.
And, in the shadows of an alley somewhere in the middle of Chicago, there is a large, hulking shape that appears to have two babies' heads and walk on spindly white arms, it's "feet" actually being hands. It's body is completely obscured by a dark brown cloak of some sort, and it's balancing on one handfoot, the other tucked up against the area where its chest should be. It's standing very still. It's been standing very still for a long, long time.