Play@YSDC

The Miskatonic River: a wide, dark slash cutting its way through Arkham. River Street's obvious namesake. A landmark, of sorts.

It's not the prettiest view from an apartment window, but it's a view nonetheless. And on this spring morning, the water could almost sparkle in the sun. Maybe today will be a good day for some leisure time. Now's the time to wake up and see.

Jean Ross, standing in her apartment before the view of the Miskatonic River, barefooted, and dressed only in cotton pyjamas and a man's trench coat, absorbs the morning sun: the warmth upon her forehead is luxurious; she closes her eyes, not thinking, just feeling.

She extinguishes the blue flame of the bunsen burner by closing the cylinder at its base, and pours the bubbling water from the glass beaker--that was sat above the heat--into her caffetiere.

The mug of coffee scolds her palm, so Jean tentatively sips at its brim, and draws the notepad closer to herself.

Dear Mother, today is a good day in Arkham. I'm sat at my breakfast table as I write this letter to you, drinking a cup of Indian tea--Father would be proud! . . .

A crow flies past, a shadow flickering across the room. People go about their daily businesses, barely noticeable.

The paper should be here soon, if not now.

Jean peers from her apartment, one hand holding open the blinds at the sash window and the other gripping the mug of coffee: is the newsboy's bicycle down below?

The newsboy comes riding up the street, along the river, papers in tow.

Jean searches for her canvas deck shoes which she kicked off the night before, and finds them under the bed. Unlocking the latch and opening the door to her apartment, and leaving the door ajar--so that she doesn't disturb Mrs. Winkleman--she lightly steps down the stairs.

The paperboy comes to a not-at-all-slow stop, hops off his bicycle, and grabs a few papers for the residents before skipping up the steps.

Kadael wrote:The paperboy comes to a not-at-all-slow stop . . .

"Impressive!"

"I'll take those papers upstairs, if you like . . ."

With a toothy grin, he tips his hat and hands the papers off. "Thanks, miss!"

Not wasting a moment, the newsboy runs down the stairs and gets right back on his bicycle. "I gotta ankle, and you should too - some awful queer stuff's happening today. Saw a man try to run into the college without using a door, and this girl was screaming real loud about it. Think they were both a bit off."

Despite his insistence on leaving, he doesn't seem to be going anywhere. He averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck, as if he's just realized this.

"You do look a bit shaken. Perhaps what you say is true?" Jean laughs. "You drank too much sasparilla soda last night, I reckon!"

"Want some water?"

"It's true, I saw it, I rode right past it!" The boy frowns, his eyebrows knotting in indignation. Then he looks at Jean again, and softens perceptibly.

"Sure. I can't take too long, though. People get mad when their paper's late."

"Okay.

"Come on up."

In her apartment Jean runs the fawcett, rinses a glass, fills it, and hands the glass to the newsboy.

"' . . . a man try to run into the college without using a door . . . ': what does that mean?"

"Means he was just running into one of the windows, like he didn't even know there was a door." The newsboy takes a gulp of water and shrugs.

"I'm going to wander over to the university, and see for myself what's going down.

"Right, time you went."

The boy frowns and sets the empty glass down. "Okay, but like I said, it was awful queer." He shuffles his feet and runs a hand through his scruffy hair. "Don't want a nice lady like you getting in trouble."

"Thanks.

"I'm not such a nice lady--it's hard being good."

"Well, you're nice enough to me." He beams up at her, then turns to leave, putting his newsboy cap squarely on his head. "Goodbye for now, miss. Maybe I'll see you next delivery?"

"Sure! take care on that bicycle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jean delivers her neighbours' papers; gets dressed; and leaves her apartment, heading for the university. She'll buy a breakfast pancake on the way.

As Jean makes her way down the street, she can see something of a crowd outside one of the University buildings. Six or seven people, at least.

The harsh shriek of a police whistle sounds. Three officers are heading straight for the gathering.

Jean joins the back of the crowd. She says to no one in particular:

"I heard someone went crazy--what's happening now?"

They're all clearly gathered around one person - a man sitting on the grass, his head turned away from her. The assessment of "crazy" is likely correct - he's wearing a torn, broken straitjacket.

Jean,Move to the following thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3194&p=128180#p128180]Perception[/url] Do not read any posts above the one you've been linked to.

Now that Dutch is gone, Jean finds herself standing next to an overturned trash can on an empty street.

Well, empty isn't the right word. The scene is littered with all sorts of garbage.

Feet together, elbows tucked in, hands clasped under her chin, Jean twists her body round, looking at the garbage.

It is very unpleasant to look at.

Jean,Roll Spot Hidden.

It's an assortment of disgusting household garbage, with no distinguishing features other than the fact that someone threw away a perfectly good piece of pie.

Well, it was perfectly good.

Jean coughs "ahem," and kicks the piece of pie with the toe of her shoe.

The pie splats against a garden trowel lying among the garbage.

Up the street, outside the University, Jean can see the silhouette of a large vehicle - the ambulance?

Jean performs a gliding motion with her foot, wiping any pastry off of her toe upon the grass. She straightens the strap of her bag, and then proceeds to the ambulance.

There are two new additions to the crowd: the uniformed driver and passenger of the ambulance.

Jean,Return to the following thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3194&p=130180#p130180]Perception[/url]