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[fuckin_thirsty]

Who: Fish, Deacon Frost
What: Something goes wrong in Spatters, and no one is surprised. Except the people involved.
Where: Spatters, in one of the not completely terrible blocks.
When: Shundi evening (OOCly: the 4th of December).

It stopped raining when the sun went down, which is good news for night life.

City lamps paint illumination off puddles, where they've collected murky on the sidewalks and water makes the streets seem made of ink over asphalt. Ramshackle residential buildings, businesses that barely limp along, and those that don't have anywhere indoors to go are what lines the roads. There is, at one stage, the rather unusual but very sharp sound of horse hooves clapping down the road, a rider directing steed through space otherwise occupied by cars, but gone again like a ghost.

The predators are more silent, keeping to the shadows, but they're present too.

Somewhere.