[39: video]

[paper_knight]

Today Mark is walking up and down a snowy New York street, circa 1935 or so, knocking on doors. He's already heard from other transmissions that all of the worlds are empty, but he wants to verify it for himself. "This is the neighborhood where I grew up," he says, panning the camera over the unmarked sidewalk. "I've never seen it so empty."

Later in the day he'll make his way through the rifts to a somewhat more rural area, marked by the silhouette of a lighthouse and the sound of crashing waves. The emptiness is less eerie here--most of the homes would be locked up for the off-season anyway. Mark is poking around in the only lit building, riffling through his own filing cabinet in an attempt to determine the timeline in which this place exists. "None of this makes any sense..."

Comments

[paper-knight.livejournal.com]

He hasn't. But he nods and takes her hand, not to be outdone.

[libraritology.livejournal.com]

Getting onto the ice isn't a problem. They manage that easily enough.

Staying upright and not falling over - especially for Evelyn, given her shoes - is a little harder. She clings to one of Mark's arms, but appears fully determined to face the fear of frozen surfaces.

"...how long has it been since you last did something like this, again?"

[paper-knight.livejournal.com]

"Amanda and I took Cindy once. A year or two back."

He inches along, his free arm held out for balance, sliding his feet rather than picking them up.

"If you feel like you're falling, lean forward."

[libraritology.livejournal.com]

"So-"

She recovers from a wobble quickly, following Mark's lead and balancing with her other arm.

"So is this what you did during the winters as a boy? Or-" Another wobble. "I suppose I should rephrase that: what sort of a boy were you? The mischievous type?"