12/31/2003
Snow drifts down from the sky, dusting the grass and trees with white beneath the flickering light posts. The sounds of cars and trains and humanity are muffled by trees and distance. The scene might be pretty, but the only person around doesn't have room in their mind to take it in. They're too cold, too tired, to even notice. The figure slumps down onto a bench, grimacing momentarily at the cold and wet from melted snow. This was far from the way they'd expected their birthday to go.
Their general circumstances would have been unexpected a few weeks ago, but being in the park at all at this time of night isn't the way they'd thought they'd be ringing in the new year. Who'd have thought that the guys running the shelter would be so uptight? Salvation their ass. They remind themselves that the bench is only a place to rest their feet for a minute; they'd need to find somewhere with a little warmth to spend the night.
They try to cheer themselves up a bit by thinking about the new year; this one might have ended badly, but they just need to figure out something a little more permanent, get back on their feet. Really, getting kicked out was probably for the best. No need to deal with all those bastards that want to make them something they're not: their perfect child, their good little charity project, whatever. As soon as they get off the bench, they'll be back to living as they are.
They aren't sure what they'll do next. They might be able to beg enough for the subway, or maybe they'll just find some alley with a cardboard box. That's a lot of walking though, and their bench has gotten nice and warm and comfortable. They'll move in just a minute. Just after they rest their eyes for a second...
1/1/2004
Their peaceful sleep is disturbed with a jab, then another, by a stick or something. They'd been having such a nice dream too... They want to tell whoever's messing with them to stop, but that seems like so much work.
"Hey... hey, kid. Kid, you alive?" The voice is indistinct and muffled, like they're far away or talking through a blanket.
They wish whoever it is would shut up and let them have their rest. Is that too much to ask, resting on a bench?
"Kid, wake up, come on! Ah shit... Hold on kid... Don't go back to sleep! Stay with me."
They're jostled off the bench and shaken around, before being left in an awkward position over the jabby-person's shoulder. With a spark of defiance, they let the warm, fuzzy sleep welcome them back.
When they open their eyes, what do they see?
[] The stars, projected onto the ceiling (Order of Hermes, favoring the sphere of Forces)
[] You see little beyond the fur blankets your covered in, and the roaring fire in front of you (Verbena, favoring the sphere of Life)
[] A burning flame sitting atop an altar, casting the room into flickering shadow.(Celestial Chorus, favoring the sphere of Prime)
[] A wall covered in decorated masks in varying styles (Dreamspeakers, favoring the sphere of Spirit)
[] A backlit, many-armed statue in an otherwise pitch-black room (Euthanatos, favoring the sphere of Fate)
[] A futon in a small, bare room (Vajra Brotherhood, favoring the Sphere of Mind)
[] A room draped in gauze, the smell of incense filling the air (Cult of Ecstasy, favoring the sphere of Time)
[] A crackling tesla coil, in a room strewn with scrap metal and tools (Sons of Ether, favoring the sphere of Matter)
[] A cot in a room that's crammed with electronics, lit by flickering LEDs (Virtual Adepts, favoring the sphere of Space)
[] A bedroom bedecked in macabre decorations and black lace (Hollow Ones, favoring the sphere of Death)