You are not one of the people who "goes places in life".
No cigarettes.
Considering everything else going on; the near invasion of Earth by psionic ghosts, the attempt to suck New York City into a demon hell powered by a thaumaturgic computer with Forge spiked inside it, ten days in a cell in Genosha waiting to be executed, the lack of cigarettes should not have registered high on the list of priorities.
But everything else was already finished, and she was craving one now. It was cheating, yes, but a little twist on her teleportation spell, and there was a pack dropped in front of her.
Abra-bloody-cadabra.
She lit the first one with a fire spell. Not much need for restraint, with the city so close to her these days. In her minds eye, she could see the duality for the first time; the images of the city spirits. A Ravenking brooded on the walls of the Tower. A man of fire played in Putney Lane. By the edge of the Thames, a man as great as a house, with octopus like tentecles of hair drifted past, just under the waterline.
A snap of her fingers, and she was in Paris, looking at a nightsky frozen with fireworks. In Berlin, the heavy mechanical sounds of tanks never truly faded, rumbling deeply in the background. In Cairo, the ancient city still dominated, mudbrick looming over seemingly fragile steel and glass. Finally, New York. Her kind of town.
Except, in one way, it wasn't. She couldn't ever live here again, any more than she could live in any city. She was in all of them, seeing more and with more control than ever before. But she couldn't live anywhere anymore, not after ducking left when she should have gone right and taking three bullets before even knowing someone was there. That was the upside of being dead. All of the control and power she'd dreamed of having, and stuck watching her former life from the outside looking in.
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Date: 2008-01-14 07:59 pm (UTC)No cigarettes.
Considering everything else going on; the near invasion of Earth by psionic ghosts, the attempt to suck New York City into a demon hell powered by a thaumaturgic computer with Forge spiked inside it, ten days in a cell in Genosha waiting to be executed, the lack of cigarettes should not have registered high on the list of priorities.
But everything else was already finished, and she was craving one now. It was cheating, yes, but a little twist on her teleportation spell, and there was a pack dropped in front of her.
Abra-bloody-cadabra.
She lit the first one with a fire spell. Not much need for restraint, with the city so close to her these days. In her minds eye, she could see the duality for the first time; the images of the city spirits. A Ravenking brooded on the walls of the Tower. A man of fire played in Putney Lane. By the edge of the Thames, a man as great as a house, with octopus like tentecles of hair drifted past, just under the waterline.
A snap of her fingers, and she was in Paris, looking at a nightsky frozen with fireworks. In Berlin, the heavy mechanical sounds of tanks never truly faded, rumbling deeply in the background. In Cairo, the ancient city still dominated, mudbrick looming over seemingly fragile steel and glass. Finally, New York. Her kind of town.
Except, in one way, it wasn't. She couldn't ever live here again, any more than she could live in any city. She was in all of them, seeing more and with more control than ever before. But she couldn't live anywhere anymore, not after ducking left when she should have gone right and taking three bullets before even knowing someone was there. That was the upside of being dead. All of the control and power she'd dreamed of having, and stuck watching her former life from the outside looking in.