Post by Morgan MacGovern on Jun 16, 2019 20:26:11 GMT
S K Y L I N E
11:42pm,the emptying streets of Giesler Plaza
Despite all things one could expect to have happened to New Otford in the space of 5 years, it was some comfort to know Giesler Plaza seemed more or less the same.
It was a late night during the middle of the week. No drunken stumbling home, no elated movie-goers excitedly ranting about whatever new show they'd seen, no laughter, but the Plaza still radiated life - the skyline of the city pierced the hazy dark blue of the night, towers and offices shimmering with perfectly allotted and symmetrical lights from offices and halls. Some of the towers were new additions, their construction ongoing or having just finished, only made clear to see by how they contrasted with the rest of the city, or how half of them had seemingly been left unfinished. Hollow metal skeletons, thanks to the civil unrest the city had grown to feel so frequently recently, jutting out from the sea of smaller buildings, a perpetual reminder of both the beauty and shortcomings of this city.
Still, the streets of the plaza weren't completely vacant. Fragrances of all kinds could still be smelt in the spacious air of the high roads, smells of anything from fancy spirits, expensive perfume and street vendor foods still lingered around. With a night as quiet and still as this, it was probably no surprise to see a few idle wanderers had come to take advantage of the sobering solitude: late night workers making the silent trek home, troubled souls trying to find peace in the night and their thoughts, it was something about the plaza that coaxed them all out. All of this illuminated by the gentle glow of the moon, shining down on the city below, casting shadows of all the wandering silhouettes almost like a beacon for the easiest way to find someone dissatisfied with the city. It wasn't hard these days. With turmoil erupting in the city like explosions on the regular (in some cases literally) one would be harder pressed to find someone with less issues than more.
Perhaps unsurprisingly then, one such figure left enjoying the pale limelight was Morgan. Was 'enjoying' too strong a word to use? After a day of having to actually go into the offices of STUN he wasn't exactly chipper. He couldn't always hide behind the excuses of the bar, intelligence fieldwork or the dozen or so requests to work from home that 'somehow' keep getting lost by Human Resources, so the poor birdie had to sit in a cage for a day. It wasn't even the work that got to him these days, but the people? His thoughts were filled up from the day being surrounded by supers. So many new faces, so many cocky attitudes and self-assured smiles, how people could grin about how strong their powers where whilst being stuck in piles of paperwork he still didn't know, but it just made Morgan's elusive times in the office all the more irritable.
Sat by himself on one of the many benches a few minutes walk from the offices of STUN, anger flashed in his eyes for a moment. His old and cheerful look didn't seem to be anywhere on the man now, even as his gaze softened, the two grey eyes seemed as blank and unreachable as the stars - that is to say, barely there to observe. Puffing idly on a cigarette in one hand as the other ran through his hair to readjust it, Morgan seemed far more morose than people would usually expect, but he wasn't exactly anticipating the arrival of anyone he knew at this hour. He'd been one of the last to leave the office building, even some of the janitorial staff had left before him. The night was quiet enough to enjoy it by himself, but as fate seemed to work in strange ways in New Otford, a small part of the young man curious wandered what else was going on in the city.
He seemed content to sit and wait for an answer. Just him and the skyline.
11:42pm,the emptying streets of Giesler Plaza
Despite all things one could expect to have happened to New Otford in the space of 5 years, it was some comfort to know Giesler Plaza seemed more or less the same.
It was a late night during the middle of the week. No drunken stumbling home, no elated movie-goers excitedly ranting about whatever new show they'd seen, no laughter, but the Plaza still radiated life - the skyline of the city pierced the hazy dark blue of the night, towers and offices shimmering with perfectly allotted and symmetrical lights from offices and halls. Some of the towers were new additions, their construction ongoing or having just finished, only made clear to see by how they contrasted with the rest of the city, or how half of them had seemingly been left unfinished. Hollow metal skeletons, thanks to the civil unrest the city had grown to feel so frequently recently, jutting out from the sea of smaller buildings, a perpetual reminder of both the beauty and shortcomings of this city.
Still, the streets of the plaza weren't completely vacant. Fragrances of all kinds could still be smelt in the spacious air of the high roads, smells of anything from fancy spirits, expensive perfume and street vendor foods still lingered around. With a night as quiet and still as this, it was probably no surprise to see a few idle wanderers had come to take advantage of the sobering solitude: late night workers making the silent trek home, troubled souls trying to find peace in the night and their thoughts, it was something about the plaza that coaxed them all out. All of this illuminated by the gentle glow of the moon, shining down on the city below, casting shadows of all the wandering silhouettes almost like a beacon for the easiest way to find someone dissatisfied with the city. It wasn't hard these days. With turmoil erupting in the city like explosions on the regular (in some cases literally) one would be harder pressed to find someone with less issues than more.
Perhaps unsurprisingly then, one such figure left enjoying the pale limelight was Morgan. Was 'enjoying' too strong a word to use? After a day of having to actually go into the offices of STUN he wasn't exactly chipper. He couldn't always hide behind the excuses of the bar, intelligence fieldwork or the dozen or so requests to work from home that 'somehow' keep getting lost by Human Resources, so the poor birdie had to sit in a cage for a day. It wasn't even the work that got to him these days, but the people? His thoughts were filled up from the day being surrounded by supers. So many new faces, so many cocky attitudes and self-assured smiles, how people could grin about how strong their powers where whilst being stuck in piles of paperwork he still didn't know, but it just made Morgan's elusive times in the office all the more irritable.
Sat by himself on one of the many benches a few minutes walk from the offices of STUN, anger flashed in his eyes for a moment. His old and cheerful look didn't seem to be anywhere on the man now, even as his gaze softened, the two grey eyes seemed as blank and unreachable as the stars - that is to say, barely there to observe. Puffing idly on a cigarette in one hand as the other ran through his hair to readjust it, Morgan seemed far more morose than people would usually expect, but he wasn't exactly anticipating the arrival of anyone he knew at this hour. He'd been one of the last to leave the office building, even some of the janitorial staff had left before him. The night was quiet enough to enjoy it by himself, but as fate seemed to work in strange ways in New Otford, a small part of the young man curious wandered what else was going on in the city.
He seemed content to sit and wait for an answer. Just him and the skyline.
