<span style="font-weight: bold">@ Ome (Stella):</span>A long afternoon of anticipation passes, the sun baking the streets dry in the cool air, the world still for a moment as you exit the building, free to move about, to prepare, to rest... the evening draws nigh, then night, the blackness about welcoming you with its still generosity.  For just one day, it's as though the whole world has stepped out of your way, and with the excitement coming with this opportunity of a lifetime, the moon seemingly just ahead of you every which way, as though welcoming you on but waiting for you patiently.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">@ KavenBach (Santi):</span>Shari nods and pays for the magazine with the rest of the books, before handing it to you and taking her bags, leading the way on home with her boy beside her.  They seemed odd for a swinging couple – they talked of everything but sex for the time being, and spoke to you as much as one another, as if you were a three-person couple or friends of years and years, and even though it was still morn, even as they made their way up the steps of their apartment, nothing even remotely centering around what was to come, not even innuendo was spoken; their ramblings of shoes and ships and sealing wax were perfectly innocent.  Finally, Tim slid a key into a rather clunky lock on an eleventh floor apartment, and entered, helping you and Shari over a step in the landing.  They set their purchases aside, and Tim bows out for a moment.  “I'm making tea, hot and cold.” He calls back.  Shari locks the door with a smile and draws her shirt off, stretching and opening a linen closet from which she pulls several bottles, fragrances and oils and diaphragms and lube.  “Strawberries, too, Tim.” She calls, her voice a bit less commanding at the moment, more soothing.  “Strawberries ignite your passions, yes?” She turns to you, and Tim behind you nods, as the question seemed directed at the both of you.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">@ Arsony (Amsar):</span>The two women, frail for certain and middle aged, start off after a while down the block, and the clock strikes eight – shops all over the street are slowly opening their locked doors.  Appliance shops, confectioneries, pharmacies, an equipment store, several sub shops, a post office, a gourmet shop, bookshops, hardware, software, nanotech, everything but a damn Eggplant store.  And, for the time being, no thieves, though people were starting to trickle in to places left and right.<br/><br/>Of possible interest was the equipment store, one of the many integrated into a mall-like complex the size of Market street in Philly, which held everything from adventuring gear to weapons requiring license, from mundane to high-tech, even a few advanced, high-quality devices such as crossbows compatible with both paradigms.  Nanotech was only good this side of the wall, but oftentimes Velle folk would smuggle it out to keep as a broken souvenir.  Electronics likewise, and even power tools interested carpenters on the other side of the wall looking to make their own magical versions.