River's half-running now. Turning corners, one after another; maybe she's lost herself or maybe she isn't, but it doesn't much matter anyway.
The buildings rise around her. It's a maze in these parts, industrial brick forming faceless narrow alleys and grimy ill-lit streets. Sometimes there are crowds around her; sometimes there are only huddled homeless men and women crouched where the cops and the predators might not find them, and the occasional passerby staring determinedly at no one, and all the talk and laughter and footsteps of the main roads are muffled into a low susurrus.
River turns, turns again, and finds herself staring at the blank wall of a dead end. A long-vandalized no-loitering sign (Joseph luvs Tanya, it says, scrawled over a faded complex squiggle that might have been a name) presides over a motley collection of cardboard boxes and old rugs and garbage.
no subject
The buildings rise around her. It's a maze in these parts, industrial brick forming faceless narrow alleys and grimy ill-lit streets. Sometimes there are crowds around her; sometimes there are only huddled homeless men and women crouched where the cops and the predators might not find them, and the occasional passerby staring determinedly at no one, and all the talk and laughter and footsteps of the main roads are muffled into a low susurrus.
River turns, turns again, and finds herself staring at the blank wall of a dead end. A long-vandalized no-loitering sign (Joseph luvs Tanya, it says, scrawled over a faded complex squiggle that might have been a name) presides over a motley collection of cardboard boxes and old rugs and garbage.