" no, dad, you're not hearing me. " denial. is it not the first stage of grief? four days have passed now, since sanji disappeared. they've rewound the cctv footage until they could all recite every single frame from memory. they've canvassed the neighbourhood. they've used tracking apps, missing posters, social media, satellite images, everything you could possibly think of. and to no avail. sanji is missing. the same night they got attacked by some of the most ruthlessly trained assailants to ever cast a shadow over the threshold of the diner, sanji vanished into thin air. but stanley refuses to accept that. which leads us to now: aisling sitting on the chair she dragged from a booth, staring wretchedly at the photos that splay across the floor, begging for a crumb of a lead. " he's gone. "
" honey, this makes no sense! look, kate's right, nobody just disappears-- " he says more, more rational thoughts, more logic, more sense, until she has to hang up the phone before she says the things that hang like iron weights on her tongue. like how kate disappeared, and reappeared here, like how half the people living upstairs faced the same fate. like how she'd promised them, swore to each of them, that she'd find a way to get them all back home, and keep them safe in the meantime. she promised them. she gave them her word--
aisling's about to hurl the phone across the diner when she feels it. like when you're asleep and someone's in the room with you. a presence. a primal instinct sending the hair on the back of her neck straight up, not quite alarm or fear, but awareness. and then, instinct directs her gaze to the rug, the fried egg design suddenly greeting a foot that steps from a faint ripple in the air. aisling sets the phone back into her pocket, exhaustion fading as bewilderment floods her mind.
it takes a moment. but suddenly, there's a young lady standing in the corridor. young, or appearing to be, and carrying a distinct energy of caution and power in equal measure. despite having no physical signs of the contrary... aisling can't help but wonder if this woman is human, or if wyll might be a better one to greet her than aisling.
" it's alright. " is it? perhaps not. but she'll find a way to make it so for this lady. " you're okay. my name is aisling. you're in manhattan. the date is the 30th of july, 2025. would you like to sit down? it's... i haven't heard anyone call this experience easy nor fun, is all. "
@nuhlas / s.c. where ur muse arrives in aisling's world via the diner portal.
