The Watcher in the Mud (13) : With so much rain lately, it's not surprising to find muddy patches throughout the city. Aside from being very slippery, there's nothing notable about most of them. Most. At first, there's only the strange sensation of being watched--and then, you see why. The eyes. There are eyes in the mud. Two, staring up at you, and nothing else. No face, no form. Sometimes the mud is totally flat, sometimes it's sunken into the ground a bit, sometimes it's built up like a small hill--but the eyes are always the same. Blinking, occasionally. Tracking you. Moving, if they need to--with surprising ease. Kick them, disturb the mud, or try to bury them, and they'll simply roll or swivel back into place to continue watching. Even if you try to leave, they'll move until they run out of mud--and then watch until you disappear from sight. If you linger long enough, the eyes will eventually grow heavy and slowly close before sinking beneath the mud.
"I guess this uniform can't really get any grungier," the Page said while making a face at the mud clinging to his boots and the bottom section of his pants. Maybe it was the way he walked? Or the chains on his boots? Or maybe the mud had a mind of its own! This was Destiny City, after all, where magic was real and no one had a say on whether they got a bit of that pie or not.
Clearly he wasn't still bitter about that.
Bamburgh stared down the muddy path before them, and then up at the deep gray sky that threatened even more rain, and then over at Chillingham. "Ever wonder if there's a cosmic laundromat or something out in the universe?" he eventually asked as he took a careful step forward. He felt more cold mud splatter the back of his calf and fought down a groan. "Y'know—where our uniforms go to get cleaned, mended, and pressed before we pull them on again?"
Though if that was actually a thing he had had half a mind to pick a bone with whoever was in charge. His uniform had stains on it by default, which... what the hell?!
Sara Draconia
