CHAPTER 2 -first half of
It was an unusually quiescent night as she sat working into the late hours on her newest couture design. The fishtank, like an oversized snow globe, babbled and swirled as the two 1 prim tube fish swam in monotonous, perpetual, clockwise circles. The only other sounds gracing the 512mt land parcel in the otherwise deserted island cluster sim were, the tinny trickling scripted to the antique wall fountain adorning the far wall of her humble boutique, and the occasional hoot of an invisible lone owl, Evanescence streaming quietly in the background.
The wind in the Linden willow forced the tree to list toward the east, it's long alpha-ed branches dipping into the shallows of the canal. A ghostly, low-lying mist and the seemingly imagined scent of sweet particle roses now swirled and drifted down the recently editted sandcliff (there had once been a great rolling sand dune here that extended down along the canal and formed a little cove, but had been ravaged by a mouse wielding land developer for that dramatic effect), from the formidible shadows of the dark and ominous Renaissance Gothic castle looming above. Like the setting for a cult vampire flick, she admired it's high rez ornate texturing and sheer granduer. Strangely it was a comfort to her, reminding her of home....
Long since risen over the vast expanse of uncrossable, simless sea (except by teleport), the almost always full SL moon shone directly overhead, and through the boutique's stained glass roof, it bathed all in an unearthly glow.
Suddenly there came the sound of a heavy touchdown on the decking at the front of the boutique, and startled, she looked up from her work, her camera view swinging around to lock on the open doorway. A dark figure slipped past the large bay window, stopping in the thin forming shadow just beyond the door.
After a long pause, he stepped into the light of the boutique's random colour change sign, flashes of red, yellow, green, blue, lighting his sullen face. Realizing he was still holding his Beretta and animated to fire at will, he quickly turned and discreetly detached and deactivated before she noticed he'd been up to no good. Looking back toward the door, his eyes met hers, but a double hit of Esc broke the gaze, and as he crossed the threshold, She knew something was wrong, very, very wrong..........
"......So Are The Days Of Our Second Lives."
Poledra Behemoth
Polygon Fashion House, Rapture (137, 242)