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Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Gotham anymore [open]
WHO| Bruce Wayne AND YOU?
WHAT| There's another new arrival out here in the snow.
WHEN| Week... 4? am I counting this right? is this week 4 or was that lst week? WHATEVER LAST WEEK WAS?
WHERE| Near the Cornucopia
WARNINGS/NOTES| None yet! Hopefully.
Bruce's first impression is the biting, bitter cold. His second is the wash of white.
The light from the sun is faint, muted behind the clouds above - small blessings, at least, as it keeps the white of the landscape from being quite so blinding as it might otherwise. Bruce automatically scans the horizon - or as far as he can see. The world is lost in snowfall, as though the white of the ground were leeching into the sky.
Immediate dangers: none that he can see. Less immediate dangers-
He has the clothes on his back, and nothing else. The elements. The fact that he was taken, and he knows so little about those who took him. Whatever might be happening in Gotham-
And that was pointless to think about now.
Bruce looked around himself once more. There was something, at least, golden and shining, some kind of horn or cornucopia, fairly close, and that would at least be as good a place as any to start. He pulled his hood close around his face, partially to keep as much bodyheat from escaping as he could, partially because that made him feel enclosed, safer. His face felt too exposed.
"Hello?" Slowly, he stepped off the plate - it was like stepping into talcum powder - and began making a cautious way towards the great horn. They'd said they - he, and these others he was being thrown into this place with - were there to kill each other, but if that was the case then the sooner Bruce found the others, the better.
He wished he had some of his own gear.
WHAT| There's another new arrival out here in the snow.
WHEN| Week... 4? am I counting this right? is this week 4 or was that lst week? WHATEVER LAST WEEK WAS?
WHERE| Near the Cornucopia
WARNINGS/NOTES| None yet! Hopefully.
Bruce's first impression is the biting, bitter cold. His second is the wash of white.
The light from the sun is faint, muted behind the clouds above - small blessings, at least, as it keeps the white of the landscape from being quite so blinding as it might otherwise. Bruce automatically scans the horizon - or as far as he can see. The world is lost in snowfall, as though the white of the ground were leeching into the sky.
Immediate dangers: none that he can see. Less immediate dangers-
He has the clothes on his back, and nothing else. The elements. The fact that he was taken, and he knows so little about those who took him. Whatever might be happening in Gotham-
And that was pointless to think about now.
Bruce looked around himself once more. There was something, at least, golden and shining, some kind of horn or cornucopia, fairly close, and that would at least be as good a place as any to start. He pulled his hood close around his face, partially to keep as much bodyheat from escaping as he could, partially because that made him feel enclosed, safer. His face felt too exposed.
"Hello?" Slowly, he stepped off the plate - it was like stepping into talcum powder - and began making a cautious way towards the great horn. They'd said they - he, and these others he was being thrown into this place with - were there to kill each other, but if that was the case then the sooner Bruce found the others, the better.
He wished he had some of his own gear.
no subject
"Let him go!" She shouted losing her carefully culled sense of self preservation as soon as Copycat struck.