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There's energy building around July's ruins. It's tangible even to humans as a bit of static in the air, enough to give a little shock if one touches metal, but it's enough that worms have fled the area entirely, not a wing to be seen. The occasional bird no longer lingers, either.
Sometimes, it is the sprawling city of July, in brick and desert mortar and adobe and scraps. Sometimes, it's the shining glittering spires of JuLai, a modern city sprouting out of a wrecked hull like a strange technological mushroom.
Sometimes it's ruins, or a giant hole. It used to switch seemingly at random, with no real rhyme or reason, though people only have ever left July, in the occasional vehicle or on tomases, oblivious until the switch happens with them on the outside. More people are leaving now, in families packed onto vehicles, nervous and apprehensive - there's something wrong with their plants, is the only thing they can say before they quickly vacate the area, heading anywhere, anywhere but near where a plant might unexpectedly blow. Watching their city flicker out and be replaced by another is a shock.
Nobody ever leaves JuLai. Nobody enters either, by the heavily armed trucks and guards at every normal point of entry. Sometimes someone makes a run for it, but they disappear like smoke in the wind as soon as they hit the edge of the city.
And the switch is increasing in speed. Weeks, sometimes, has now become days, occasionally mere hours.
A small camp of July's escapees has begun a few iles outside the city, in the lee of a sheltering rock, arguments frequent over whether or not they should try to get back and save their neighbors and friends, or if the only chance is heading for another big city.
The sense of power in the air is growing with every flicker of exchanging cities.
[OOC Note: This is an open prompt, even characters not joining directly in the later bits can interact with it as they please.]
Sometimes, it is the sprawling city of July, in brick and desert mortar and adobe and scraps. Sometimes, it's the shining glittering spires of JuLai, a modern city sprouting out of a wrecked hull like a strange technological mushroom.
Sometimes it's ruins, or a giant hole. It used to switch seemingly at random, with no real rhyme or reason, though people only have ever left July, in the occasional vehicle or on tomases, oblivious until the switch happens with them on the outside. More people are leaving now, in families packed onto vehicles, nervous and apprehensive - there's something wrong with their plants, is the only thing they can say before they quickly vacate the area, heading anywhere, anywhere but near where a plant might unexpectedly blow. Watching their city flicker out and be replaced by another is a shock.
Nobody ever leaves JuLai. Nobody enters either, by the heavily armed trucks and guards at every normal point of entry. Sometimes someone makes a run for it, but they disappear like smoke in the wind as soon as they hit the edge of the city.
And the switch is increasing in speed. Weeks, sometimes, has now become days, occasionally mere hours.
A small camp of July's escapees has begun a few iles outside the city, in the lee of a sheltering rock, arguments frequent over whether or not they should try to get back and save their neighbors and friends, or if the only chance is heading for another big city.
The sense of power in the air is growing with every flicker of exchanging cities.
[OOC Note: This is an open prompt, even characters not joining directly in the later bits can interact with it as they please.]
