The hallowed halls of Vital Yield Ministries were messy but quaint. A thin sheen of grime covered every surface and there were small rips in the forest green fabric of the pews. Volunteers did their best to keep things tidy, but they all knew it was a losing battle. There was never enough money in The Highlands.
Tag: The Highlands
Chapter 6; Shank. Siren. Sausagefest.
Late forenoon, a bit before twelve, was the edge of morning for The Highlands. Almost remiss dawn. North toward Sector, over the gargantuan Gate Quartal—which separated Taction Shiatsa from Anma—early signs of daybreak were finally showing. The heavens were a muted pink-gray. A large veil of shade, the shadow cast by Gate Quartal, shrank back. Inching, slowly.
Chapter 5; Mimosas & Rotten Milk.
“Wait. Not good enough... Maybe… Now, you’re really peacocking.” Yaz said. Paused. Then slapped his thigh. “Ahh, fuck, I got it! Looks like you flock together with birds of a loser feather!” He stared at the ground. “Nah, that’s dumb. The first one stays.”
Chapter 3; A Cup of Conflict in the AM
An alarming wail. Another. An alarming wail. Closer. On the southern outskirts of The Highlands, striding the broad path of Anubhoot Avenue, large hilly plains ended at a vale of boulders as tall as trees. Those who found themselves knowledgeable in the geography of Etre City, and thereby the boundaries of the Hood 55, would know this outcropping marked the end of The Highlands.
Chapter 2; Night Scribe, Day Climb
“From there, with unthinkable power he was able to-” The television set shut off ending the Klaskywood documentary, and plunging the room into darkness. Outside was even darker. It was a new luna-beacon; an empty sky as the evening light at the center of the world recharged.
Spirit of the City 