[Open] There is nowhere to stop anywhere on this road
Universe: Normal!verse
Time: present-ish. Y'know, without the flood
Place: the middle of the street
Characters: Leslie, a Pol from an alt!Rift where, amongst other things, her kind are treated like time bombs that are to be controlled and the planet is filled with infected zombie-like humans and anyone who sees fit to poke her.
Her fingers are stiff and her body craves food but she doesn't say anything. They're huddled around a fire, all of them keeping warm but not warm enough. Her eyes are heavy and she's fairly sure she could fall asleep where she sits but she knows she won't let herself.
"I'll be back," she announces to the group. The others nod and Haley even gives her a worried expression but she waves it off.
"I'm fine."
She moves away from the fire, pulling her coat around her tighter as she wills her legs to carry her away from her friends.
There's a gun in her pocket and it's comforting as it bumps against her. She doesn't think she'll need it. They haven't seen anyone for days neither the sick or the well but she could never be sure. The ones who were sick are one thing, you knew where you stood with them but with those who weren't? You could never be sure.
She learned how to gauge desperation and fear though. It took her a while but it comes naturally to her now.
And then things go all wrong.
Theres too much light and too much sound and somehow she's in the middle of the street surrounded by buildings. All of her muscles clench up and she crouches in a defensive stance. Cars honk at her and she darts out of the way.
Her eyes are wide as she stares at Chicago, unsure of what to make of what's going on.
She's heard the stories, knows that sometimes the Rift takes people and puts them other places (a small part of her, the part that dreams, thinks that they might even be better places) but she's never seen it in action or thought she would experience it.
So now there's a girl dressed in layers of clothing, looking sick, tired and hungry pressing herself up against a wall, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.
Time: present-ish. Y'know, without the flood
Place: the middle of the street
Characters: Leslie, a Pol from an alt!Rift where, amongst other things, her kind are treated like time bombs that are to be controlled and the planet is filled with infected zombie-like humans and anyone who sees fit to poke her.
Her fingers are stiff and her body craves food but she doesn't say anything. They're huddled around a fire, all of them keeping warm but not warm enough. Her eyes are heavy and she's fairly sure she could fall asleep where she sits but she knows she won't let herself.
"I'll be back," she announces to the group. The others nod and Haley even gives her a worried expression but she waves it off.
"I'm fine."
She moves away from the fire, pulling her coat around her tighter as she wills her legs to carry her away from her friends.
There's a gun in her pocket and it's comforting as it bumps against her. She doesn't think she'll need it. They haven't seen anyone for days neither the sick or the well but she could never be sure. The ones who were sick are one thing, you knew where you stood with them but with those who weren't? You could never be sure.
She learned how to gauge desperation and fear though. It took her a while but it comes naturally to her now.
And then things go all wrong.
Theres too much light and too much sound and somehow she's in the middle of the street surrounded by buildings. All of her muscles clench up and she crouches in a defensive stance. Cars honk at her and she darts out of the way.
Her eyes are wide as she stares at Chicago, unsure of what to make of what's going on.
She's heard the stories, knows that sometimes the Rift takes people and puts them other places (a small part of her, the part that dreams, thinks that they might even be better places) but she's never seen it in action or thought she would experience it.
So now there's a girl dressed in layers of clothing, looking sick, tired and hungry pressing herself up against a wall, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.