James E. Wilson, MD (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dr_conscience) wrote2011-09-05 02:28 pm
dr_conscience) wrote2011-09-05 02:28 pm
Entry tags:
[ 66th consult | video / action at hall of the missing ]
[For those watching via the Network, you've currently got a view of the Hall of the Missing provided by a device left sitting, unattended, on a shed suit jacket that's placed on one of the benches. The owner of these items is visible, off by the wall.
Of course, it's not unusual to stop by the Hall of the Missing - assuming you have reason to suspect someone you know has just left. Wilson doesn't have any such excuse; he's on his lunch break and, not particularly hungry, he's popped across the street to spend some quiet time among the portraits. He stops in here now and again, with increasing frequency since he passed the two year mark of his return to the City in July.
He strolls slowly and silently along the wall, inevitably pausing for a few moments when he happens across a familiar face. It's been a long time. Not as long as some, of course; he knows that perfectly well. Still, a long time, and he's reached a point of resignation as he reflects back on it.
He stops his path by Cuddy's portrait, then turns away and finds is way back to the bench where the device rests, sitting next to it. He takes a slow and quiet intake of breath and looks around him once more. No words are spoken, for he doesn't know he has anyone to say them to.]
Of course, it's not unusual to stop by the Hall of the Missing - assuming you have reason to suspect someone you know has just left. Wilson doesn't have any such excuse; he's on his lunch break and, not particularly hungry, he's popped across the street to spend some quiet time among the portraits. He stops in here now and again, with increasing frequency since he passed the two year mark of his return to the City in July.
He strolls slowly and silently along the wall, inevitably pausing for a few moments when he happens across a familiar face. It's been a long time. Not as long as some, of course; he knows that perfectly well. Still, a long time, and he's reached a point of resignation as he reflects back on it.
He stops his path by Cuddy's portrait, then turns away and finds is way back to the bench where the device rests, sitting next to it. He takes a slow and quiet intake of breath and looks around him once more. No words are spoken, for he doesn't know he has anyone to say them to.]
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And... well, I certainly realize that it's unusual. I just... I suppose I can't think of any better chronicle that the City has to offer.
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I know that's kind of girlie.
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Though I suppose the Network itself isn't entirely dissimilar.