// @lcgends sent, ❝ I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on. ❞
arms fold across her chest as eyes narrow. ❛ you really know how to inspire confidence, don’t you? ❜ yet elizabeth knows that this time the fault lies upon her own head. she is here of her own volition, and if she has found herself in over her head, then it is by her own doing.
she could have walked away, after all. she could be sitting in an office, desk carefully uncluttered yet nearly two dozen tabs open upon her computer. she could be pretending the world completely mundane, the universe as she knows it bound by the constraints of land, sea, and sky, dissipating as earth’s atmosphere thins. she could be pretending that there’s nothing more than void beyond, the vast cosmos bound to remain unreachable to the human race far beyond her own lifespan.
instead, she is here, wherever here is, in the company of an individual who, by his own admission, does not know what is going on. she resists the urge to mutter the words ‘a lot of use you are,’ yet she turns away, eyeing the seemingly deserted streets of a wholly alien city. they stand poised at the center of a plaza, beneath the towering statue of... well, something. streets stretch out from the four corners, each one alike the others. ❛ you may be content to not to know what’s going on, ❜ — though, frankly, elizabeth’s not sure she believes that — ❛ but I’m not. ❜ she’s half prepared to play a game of eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the four corner streets when he gaze falls instead upon a large building that consumes almost an entire side of the plaza and upon the single, flickering light in a fifth floor window.
she’s taken twelve steps forward before she turns to look over her shoulder. ❛ are you coming? ❜