#timeline 01:00

[shockandawesome]

@markedmutant

Alison emptied a heavy sigh from her chest and rubbed her palms together with an anxious kind of contemplation. Central Park didn’t have a single light on, like everywhere else, but it was quiet and blissfully not blinking itself through time or pelting her with hail at the moment. She tried to let herself enjoy the stillness even though it was unlikely to last. 

Perched on a top a rock she spread her feet and started tapping out a light beat on it’s surface. After she’d found her rhythm her voice softly followed. She didn’t know if singing to herself in the dark made her surroundings more or less eerie but it did fill her with a warmth that was always difficult to describe to others. Something like home- the idea of a place she didn’t have anymore. For once she didn’t even need to soak up the noise though, the near constant activity in the mansion had already left her with a buzz when she stepped out.

Somehow she’d managed to spend the last few night crashing with the Avengers... and they hadn’t tossed her back out onto the curb yet-? Alison didn’t plan to stick around but it was damn hard to give up hot shower showers and decent food under the circumstances. For sure they’d catch on eventually that she wasn’t even a little qualified for this disaster. She had been out trying to help, but that didn’t make her a hero. At least in the meantime she had a warm bed and whole lot of eye candy.

Her voice carried through the darkness of the park and with it she released just a little dazzle to brighten up the place, tiny flickering lights like fireflies to keep her company.

[elektralivesagain]

@callmexxbucky

For the moment a bitter cold storm had gathered overhead without warning and dusted the rooftops with a fine coating of fresh powder. The now perpetually dark days stretched on and the energy brimming in the city streets only seemed to turn farther from civility with every passing hour. More importantly though, the city itself was not to be trusted. Things shifted unpredictably in and out of time. Solid then broken. There and gone.

That suited her just fine.

It seemed to mirror in a tactile way the devastation lingering inside her head. Memories and details that were still piecing themselves together, other times only the sense of grasping at frayed edges where something important used to be. When Elektra returned to the loft to drop off supplies he was already gone. She hadn’t needed to check the worn trunk in the corner for it’s contents to know where. She didn’t have a right to be disappointed but that didn’t keep the unwelcome feeling from taking root in her chest and sending her out into the darkness in search of a distraction. It wasn’t mundane boredom she was chasing away anymore. The idleness had become something entirely worse, a vicious undertow that needed her hands to stay busy in the ways they were best at.

In the static of snow a figure appeared on the horizon overlooking the streets below. No, not him... but almost, in the way they seemed to perch. That alone was enough to merit a curious spark in her that demanded to be chased. Elektra started to cut a less obvious path towards the silhouette as the part of her that felt most intact. Assassin. She was a light-footed ghost, moving in from the blind spot for a closer look.

[elektralivesagain]

@aliasinvestigations-nyc

Things were getting worse. Sections of city streets turned to a muddy dirt thoroughfare, to cobblestone, to shattered brick and potholes. She would like to ignore it but the unpredictability was unsettling sometimes in how quickly things could shift. This was the reason driving her to seek out the blind man during the hours where they’d been treating each other as passing ships. At least that’s what she would tell herself.

Elektra followed the narrow walkup down the hall of identical office doors. She found it with the use of a small flashlight searching each frosted glass window ‘Nelson, Murdock & Page’. With no one else in the hall to witness it she sneered lightly and rolled her eyes before entering.

Empty. It seemed nobody had come into work today. The drab little office was dark and all three desks were sitting vacant and piled in casework. It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Given the condition of this city the use it had for lawyers was rapidly diminishing in the chaos, and she wouldn’t have considered the profession of high priority to begin with.

She stepped farther inside, let the light in her hand sweep across the small space and it’s contents. It wasn’t difficult to discern the one that belonged to him. Extra accommodations around the computer and even a few extra conspicuously visible canes leaned against a wall. The things he did for appearances. Elektra traipsed around the desk, fingertips skimming it’s worn edge and just about to start opening drawers when there was a rattle at the door. If not him, she sincerely hoped it would be the stout one.

[elektralivesagain]

@moonknightcd

A heat had settled in over a swath of Midtown, the sweltering summer sort of heat that felt like it radiated up off the streets even without the subway running below. Elektra stood as a shadow against a dark sky, perched on the rooftop ledge hoping to catch any hint of a breeze. Each breath was almost stifling and sweat gathered at the back of her neck where mask covering half her face wrapped over her skin. It made the permanent night feel like a relief in spite of an increasingly desperate city that hadn’t seen the sun in over a week.

The Assassin missed the daylight less than most. She was at home in the anonymity and freedom of movement at night, especially when hunting. Although in the past she always had a target. This was more like his kind of hunting, aimless until it wasn’t. Not really her style, but anything was better than the terrible idleness of the loft when he was gone. Unfortunately impatience had already started to crawl beneath her skin again. It made the crash and pained scream below sound so much better than it probably should.

Even in dark it was hard to miss the figure cut in stark white. She wasn’t sure if that made him some kind of street pimp or just a very lost groomsman? When she dropped in behind him with her sai already drawn she had he luxury of  not caring particularly which, or of having to know anything other than that this would stave off the terrible quiet.

“Do you know what it takes to pull off an all white suit?”