[Action] Househunting. Sort of. (Backdated)

[vampbogeyman.livejournal.com]

Well.

If she were being honest, Anita hadn't been at all sure what to expect upon arriving. Certainly not this, though. Considering the source, she had expected something a little out of the ordinary -- it didn't seem like Glitch would deign to live somewhere that was anything but, really -- but... well. With the way he talked about it, she thought it might be a slightly eccentric house, not -- what was this, anyway? A freaking glacier?

She picked up her phone and dialed Glitch to alert him to her arrival. Not knowing any of the other residents here at the North Pole, it seemed like the thing to do.

((OOC: Open to Glitch and all other residents of The Northern Island! Backdated like WHOA. Apologies.))

[text | location: scdp] strike another match, go start anew

[selfmadman]

A skyscraper vanishes. It's autumn—a painter's autumn, the leaves ablaze with color and wind whipping through the streets—the day Don takes the tram to Luthor Plaza and finds a misshapen warehouse with a banner announcing HAWAIIAN BBQ sagging over the entrance. He steps inside still anticipating lobby, elevators, a purposeful bustle. The greasy tang of barbecue enfolds him.

That night he wakes sweating on the hotel bed. He strips and showers but a sticky heat stays in the air. He pours himself a drink (number five, number one), switches on the air conditioner, and watches the ice in his glass melt to slivers. Imagines a building evaporating.

He gets out his tablet and in the lamp's dim glow looks at the map. The dots scattered over it are still. He remembers opening the door to Sally and Bobby's room, slipping out of the hall's harsh light into darkness. Back then they'd slept with intense concentration and complete trust.

Don turns off the tablet, finishes his drink. He clicks off the lamp and rolls onto his stomach. Sleep settles lightly over him until suddenly he recoils from it, grabbing for the tablet and knocking the glass to the floor.

At Mattie's apartment he opens every drawer, every cabinet, moving with deliberation born of panic. He stops when he finds the coin. He slumps down onto the bed, a California gold piece in the palm of his hand. It's a long time before his fingers close around it.

When he leaves the sun is rising. Grass that yesterday was brown and brittle has sprung back to life. Trees are green. It's gonna be a hot one.

He types out a message—Mattie Ross is gone—and heads for the office.


ooc: Slightly backdated and stuff.