Fearspecter - Blog Posts

one   of   the   things   that   relaxes   mizuse   is   the   wind   in   her   hair,   breeze   brushing   along   smooth   skin   —   whether   the   sensations   arise   from   a   sprint   or   perched   on   the   highest   point.   despite   mizuse   being   less   adapted   to   cold   weather,   she   still   seeks   the   rooftop   (   she   purchased   a   sweatshirt   from   the   museum’s   gift   shop   that’s   not   surprisingly   open   to   have   some   sort   of   warmth   )   for   a   breath   of   fresh   air   &   some   solitude.   the   speedster   doesn’t   expect   anyone   else   up   here,   eyes   wide   in   WONDER   and   an   elated   gasp   once   she   steps   outside   to   witness   the   hanging   lights   and   sculptures   decorating   the   space.   however,   a   beat   after   expressing   her   wonder   and   relief,   her   attention   swiftly   shifts   to   the   seated   figure.   hands   shoved   into   the   front   pocket   of   the   sweatshirt   (   what   a   great   outfit   —   a   vintage   couture   dress   &   matching   heels   underneath   a   cotton   pullover   ),   mizuse   recognizes   it’s   one   of   the   heroes   -   in   -   training   …   oswald,   was   it   ?   oscar   ?   ❛   nah,   i’m   good,   ❜   she   declines   the   offer,   gradually   with   lithesome   steps   making   her   way   over   to   the   parapet.   mizuse   reaches   to   slip   off   her   shoes   and   sets   them   aside   before   lifting   herself   onto   the   ledge   beside   otto   in   a   fluid   motion.   ❛   nice   view   up   here,   eh   ?   ❜   she   gives   a   swift   glance   towards   him   before   nodding   her   chin   towards   the   novus   skyline,   slowly   kicking   her   feet   back   and   forth.   

when: 7 january 2040 where: buchanan’s annual gala who: open!

there’s little trouble to get into on the rooftop, but then he hadn’t expected to find much up of anything up here. he’s mildly surprised to find it decorated with tiny twinkling lights that seem to never phase out of relevance no matter the decade. there are seating arrangements, too, as if it’s common to host an event atop a museum but then maybe it is. a lot of change can happen in seven years. he hoists himself up to sit on the parapet - feet dangling over the edge - and gazes out over the capital city. when he was younger, he dreamed of blacking out an entire city like this. just to see if he could. he’s old enough to know it’s a death wish, but that childlike curiosity remains. he supposes he should be grateful the nsa couldn’t extinguish that over the last seven years. he cranes his head back as the door to the rooftop opens, blue eyes giving the intruder a once over before he, good naturedly, offers his vape pen. not without taking a hit first, but still offered nonetheless. “first hit’s free.“