it’s late-- a time where most of the city had long since fallen asleep. it’s a habit, she knows. being up this late, alert and ready for anything. it came from months and months of traversing Tartarus and handling the Dark Hours that her body felt too restless to simply fall asleep at this time.
the roof of the condo -- her newfound home -- is where she was at, hands pressing against the roof’s ledge as her gaze remained upwards, fixated upon the moon. it glowed brightly, illuminating the entire city in an almost ethereal glow. how many nights has she spent looking up at the moon? wondering, thinking, about any and everything? too many, but tonight is not a night to wonder why she had this power or how many more Shadows were left to defeat. no, she was waiting.
waiting for that eerie green to cloak everything, for coffins to line the streets in place of bodies and blood-like stains and puddles to litter the ground. for every electronic to go out and that secret hour makes its emergence. but as she glances down at her phone, as the clock reaches midnight..........
nothing.
seconds turn into minutes and nothing happens. the moon remains white, still glowing, still watching. it seems strange, as if not real, and yet-- “ There’s........no Dark Hour here. “
@evocalized -- proxy event