[identity profile] shatter-brought.livejournal.com
From somewhere in the stratosphere, there is a rumbling.

Tonnes of compressed rock and ice have lost their battle with the Earth's gravity, and, with inexorable slowness that all-too-soon becomes a screaming burning rattling race, begin to tumble towards the planet's surface. Pieces flake away, smoking and curling with the heat. The meteor glows, red, then white, then a colour so bright it'd burn your eyes just to look at it.

The atmosphere is putting up a good fight, but it's still a sizeable chunk of space debris that hurtles along on its collision course with Toronto.

Then--

--impact.
[identity profile] sanguine-supper.livejournal.com
Esca.

Inna house (in Toronto).

With a glass of water and a contemplative expression.

:D?
[identity profile] j-m-reeves.livejournal.com
Jesse has always liked to travel - and since she's been a vampire, that hasn't always meant first class planes, although Maharet is fond of night flights. This world, though - there's not much to do, besides explore. She's still hoping that she'll find someone who can explain what's going on, although it's looking less and less likely.

She's also thirsty, again, which is odd. Although perhaps it does make sense - she isn't drawing off her connection to Mekare, perhaps, to sustain herself. So she needs to feed. Eventually. She can go a while, not that she'd pass up an opportunity if one presented itself to her.

This evening, she's in Toronto, because. .. well. There is no because. More of a 'why not'.

She's standing by the ruins of the Centrepoint mall, being bizarrely disappointed that it's gone, because she remembers having lunch at a really cute Greek restaurant there once. She couldn't eat even if it was still there, but it's still annoying. Oh well.
[identity profile] murder-heals.livejournal.com
After the whole apocalypse thing, what with the giant squid attacks and so forth, Toronto didn't have many survivors.

It still doesn't, because 'none' is not 'many'.

What? Even vampires have to eat.

Perhaps, however, Deryn should have considered the virtues of sustainable farming. Because now she's not only stuck in a strange new place, but she's stuck in a strange unfamiliar place without any food. (And if you suggest drinking animal blood, she'll kick you in the head. She likes her sentience, thank you very much.)

Her throat, like a scurvy sufferer's old wound, is red and sore.

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