[Chloe is no stranger to doing stupid shit for stupid reasons.
And here she is, freshly torn from home and told she’s supposed to be someone of influence in this weird new world, someone with power, someone who is—for a certain definition of the word—technically immortal. So of course it’s the perfect recipe for ramping her usual boldness up even further.
Yet while it might be emboldening, it’s still a fucking crazy situation to find herself in, one she’s becoming in desperate need to take her mind off of. Of course she has one answer for that, and in her unabashed searching she finds one common trail of advice: she’d have better luck underground. What she hadn’t expected was how insanely literal that was, a path lead through sewers giving way to tunnels that twist and turn for what felt like an eternity. Long enough that she’s almost sure she’d fallen for a fucked up prank, or was about to walk headlong into the lair of a serial killer or something.
But then one pathway finally brings into sight the fabled underground city, lit neon from enormous scattered mushrooms, buildings packed tightly and reaching up higher than she would have expected from a city underneath a city. Crazy to see something like this with her own two eyes; it feels like something out of a video game.
Even after spending a year in a real, normal city, it still feels weird to be around so many people at once, especially in as packed a space as this. But she is a woman on a mission, and there is no time to waste feeling daunted by the prospect of the ebb and flow of bodies all around her, of the fact that she has no fucking clue where she’s going.
She holds onto that shaky bit of advice that had brought her down here in the first place, moving with the flow of the crowd and keeping her eyes peeled. It was hard to miss all the gossip upstairs about the attacks, and of course the reputation Kowloon itself had regarding its attitude toward people coming down here from above. And while she might be stupidly bold, she’s not completely stupid—she knows damn well that this is a place where she needs to watch her back. Which is probably why she eventually catches the odd way the crowd almost seems to part a little behind her as she makes her way deeper into the city.
So forgive her for feeling a bit jumpy by the time she catches a hand reaching out toward her in the corner of her eye. She whirls on her heel (heedless of the way she makes an obstacle of herself in this foot traffic) even as said hand drops abruptly away. She flinches away from the near-touch, planting her heels and ready to shove back the instant that hand might rise toward her again—and she certainly doesn’t regret it when she gets a real look at the guy responsible. That expression and that freaky eye of his don’t exactly make a sterling first impression.
So yeah, she’s not buying that excuse.]
Yeah, sure you did. Or is that just the line you give to every girl you stalk through the streets?
[She’s angry and defensive, and the feelings bleed through to her words just as much as her posture.]
oh here we go
And here she is, freshly torn from home and told she’s supposed to be someone of influence in this weird new world, someone with power, someone who is—for a certain definition of the word—technically immortal. So of course it’s the perfect recipe for ramping her usual boldness up even further.
Yet while it might be emboldening, it’s still a fucking crazy situation to find herself in, one she’s becoming in desperate need to take her mind off of. Of course she has one answer for that, and in her unabashed searching she finds one common trail of advice: she’d have better luck underground. What she hadn’t expected was how insanely literal that was, a path lead through sewers giving way to tunnels that twist and turn for what felt like an eternity. Long enough that she’s almost sure she’d fallen for a fucked up prank, or was about to walk headlong into the lair of a serial killer or something.
But then one pathway finally brings into sight the fabled underground city, lit neon from enormous scattered mushrooms, buildings packed tightly and reaching up higher than she would have expected from a city underneath a city. Crazy to see something like this with her own two eyes; it feels like something out of a video game.
Even after spending a year in a real, normal city, it still feels weird to be around so many people at once, especially in as packed a space as this. But she is a woman on a mission, and there is no time to waste feeling daunted by the prospect of the ebb and flow of bodies all around her, of the fact that she has no fucking clue where she’s going.
She holds onto that shaky bit of advice that had brought her down here in the first place, moving with the flow of the crowd and keeping her eyes peeled. It was hard to miss all the gossip upstairs about the attacks, and of course the reputation Kowloon itself had regarding its attitude toward people coming down here from above. And while she might be stupidly bold, she’s not completely stupid—she knows damn well that this is a place where she needs to watch her back. Which is probably why she eventually catches the odd way the crowd almost seems to part a little behind her as she makes her way deeper into the city.
So forgive her for feeling a bit jumpy by the time she catches a hand reaching out toward her in the corner of her eye. She whirls on her heel (heedless of the way she makes an obstacle of herself in this foot traffic) even as said hand drops abruptly away. She flinches away from the near-touch, planting her heels and ready to shove back the instant that hand might rise toward her again—and she certainly doesn’t regret it when she gets a real look at the guy responsible. That expression and that freaky eye of his don’t exactly make a sterling first impression.
So yeah, she’s not buying that excuse.]
Yeah, sure you did. Or is that just the line you give to every girl you stalk through the streets?
[She’s angry and defensive, and the feelings bleed through to her words just as much as her posture.]