cradle cradle cradle i made you out of clay

[douchemag]

[Judar's cradle drops everyone off in what seems to be a bustling Chinese marketplace. Stalls line the streets, selling everything ranging from food to clothing to souveneirs to yes, even what appears to be opium and weed. You're welcome, Hancock. It looks like they've arrived at peak hours, as crowds shuffle past them and the air's filled with noisy chatter from shoppers and owners alike. Just to complete the Jasmine metaphor, flying carpets soar above the marketplace in the sky, carrying passengers dressed in rich silks and fabrics.

Beyond the marketplace in the distance looms the silhouette of an ornate imperial Chinese palace, blue and white banners flapping in the wind. Judging by the general atmosphere and attire, the people here seem to be mostly cheerful and relatively prosperous, if not wealthy. In all the commotion, finding a single person may seem impossible - until they spot a swirl of bright white butterflies and the flick of a familiar braid rounding one of the street corners.]

Comments

[parodeity]

[ there are flying carpets holy shit? dave is eyeing those in surprise even though judar's. talked about them. and he can fucking fly. why is he even remotely surprised here...? ]

Damn. Guess we should try for the palace? That's where he might be, r - oh.

[ those butterflies. he points. ]

There we go. Let's move out.

[socloverit]

[Clover, for one, is already in the process of elbowing people out of her way, because you don't grow up at a mere 4'9" of pure fury without learning how to get a crowd to move (and she's excited to be temporarily uninjured enough for casual violence because of course she is). There's a lot to take in here, none of it weirder than the dead man hanging out with her and Dave right now, but she'd never miss the shine of those butterflies.]

We're gonna lose him if we don't hurry, c'mon.