In the strange, drifting liminality of the Crossroads, a rift opens like a star, vivid green and bright white. Notions of up and down disintegrate, irrelevant, but there is a sense of falling forwards as the Crossroads vanish entirely around you.
And high in the air above 42nd street, green light tears space apart, thick arms of lightning slamming into concrete. A car swerves, tires screeching, and a chorus of protesting horns immediately erupt before the sound of metal slamming metal detonates like a thunderclap as a yellow taxi cab brakes too slow and slams into another. Shouts of alarm and complaint ripple through the crowd of pedestrians, all motion grinding to a crowded halt.
The rift above glimmers in a familiar haze of suspended green light, a three-dimensional scar.
Dotted throughout the crowd, you will find yourself immediately lost in a sea of strangers, expressions of caution that begin to warm into curiousity, and hands hefting smartphones to record whatever it is you happen to be doing. Looking beyond them, there looms the impossible rise of buildings, of glowing light that ripples over screens or emanates from signage, and then further, the realisation that the sky is dusk-dark but the world around you is close to daylit.
It is overwhelming to just about every sense: sight, sound, and unfortunately smell, although perhaps Kirkwall can compete on that last one. Still, the scent of exhaust and pollution is a unique, acrid tang to the air.
It will take a minute or several for the confused knot of stopped traffic and excited bystanders to untangle, and even longer to start sheep herding, so have fun.
[ ooc ; start your own starters or threadjack someone else's, no tag order we die like men etc. feel free to get lost with a friend or assume you get shepherded to the Sanctum Santorum (to start with) courtesy of Tony and Stephen, eventually. ]
east coast arrival.
And high in the air above 42nd street, green light tears space apart, thick arms of lightning slamming into concrete. A car swerves, tires screeching, and a chorus of protesting horns immediately erupt before the sound of metal slamming metal detonates like a thunderclap as a yellow taxi cab brakes too slow and slams into another. Shouts of alarm and complaint ripple through the crowd of pedestrians, all motion grinding to a crowded halt.
The rift above glimmers in a familiar haze of suspended green light, a three-dimensional scar.
Dotted throughout the crowd, you will find yourself immediately lost in a sea of strangers, expressions of caution that begin to warm into curiousity, and hands hefting smartphones to record whatever it is you happen to be doing. Looking beyond them, there looms the impossible rise of buildings, of glowing light that ripples over screens or emanates from signage, and then further, the realisation that the sky is dusk-dark but the world around you is close to daylit.
It is overwhelming to just about every sense: sight, sound, and unfortunately smell, although perhaps Kirkwall can compete on that last one. Still, the scent of exhaust and pollution is a unique, acrid tang to the air.
It will take a minute or several for the confused knot of stopped traffic and excited bystanders to untangle, and even longer to start sheep herding, so have fun.
[ ooc ; start your own starters or threadjack someone else's, no tag order we die like men etc. feel free to get lost with a friend or assume you get shepherded to the Sanctum Santorum (to start with) courtesy of Tony and Stephen, eventually. ]