It flickered and buzzed as if its existence was only conditional on whether or not it actually desired to exist. It was a perfect sphere and was coloured a sort of translucent indigo. It hovered about the height of Pippin the Hobbit off of the ground. Shimmering, it was enticing, inviting them to set the world straight. For surely that was what it was, what they were looking for. This floating, insubstantial orb, was surely the reason they were in Chicago. Presumably, there would be others that they'd have to collect.
Brian was fascinated. Brian loved to be fascinated. It was his favourite thing to be. Of course, he preferred to fascinate other people, but fascination was the next best thing. This was impossible. There was no projector attached to any wall anywhere. There was nobody shining a torch down the alleyway. There were no gaps in the brick-work where a light from a building could have shone through. Besides, this was the wrong shape. A ray of escaped light would be a straight line. This was a circle.
The were in a slim alley fitted between the café they'd just left and a barber next door. Joanne had spotted a glint of blue teasing them from within and had grabbed Brian's sleeve to alert him. He'd alerted the rest of the group, which followed him and Joanne down the alley. Now they stood waiting, hoping for that voice to tell them what they were supposed to do. None came. Brian shot his hand through the light. It shimmered violently but recovered. He then proceeded to slap his forehead with the ball of his hand.
"Idiot!" he cried, "Of course!"
Jan raised an eyebrow, "What? Of course what?"
"It's Wesley," Brian's eyes lit up, "It has to be Wesley!"
"You mean...?" Wesley murmured, "You mean I can make it go away?"
"Yeah," Brian nodded elatedly.
Wesley readied himself and took a deep breath. He extended the tip of his finger into the blueness. Immediately, Wesley's entire form tinted blue, then returned to its regular hue with a twinkling flash of light. And the orb was gone.
Wesley inspected his , then gingerly showed his fingertips to Brian, presuming that he'd know what to do. Brian nodded.
"What is it?" Joanne asked.
Wesley extended his index fingers and displayed them to the group. The tips were stained blue as if a ballpoint had exploded in his hands. He rubbed them gingerly against his thumbs but none of the colour was imparted to them. After a few moments, the smudges dissipated into defined rings that circumnavigated the spot just below his fingernail.
"It's part of you now," Brian announced, "And we'll be hoping to follow your lead soon."
Brian was fascinated. Brian loved to be fascinated. It was his favourite thing to be. Of course, he preferred to fascinate other people, but fascination was the next best thing. This was impossible. There was no projector attached to any wall anywhere. There was nobody shining a torch down the alleyway. There were no gaps in the brick-work where a light from a building could have shone through. Besides, this was the wrong shape. A ray of escaped light would be a straight line. This was a circle.
The were in a slim alley fitted between the café they'd just left and a barber next door. Joanne had spotted a glint of blue teasing them from within and had grabbed Brian's sleeve to alert him. He'd alerted the rest of the group, which followed him and Joanne down the alley. Now they stood waiting, hoping for that voice to tell them what they were supposed to do. None came. Brian shot his hand through the light. It shimmered violently but recovered. He then proceeded to slap his forehead with the ball of his hand.
"Idiot!" he cried, "Of course!"
Jan raised an eyebrow, "What? Of course what?"
"It's Wesley," Brian's eyes lit up, "It has to be Wesley!"
"You mean...?" Wesley murmured, "You mean I can make it go away?"
"Yeah," Brian nodded elatedly.
Wesley readied himself and took a deep breath. He extended the tip of his finger into the blueness. Immediately, Wesley's entire form tinted blue, then returned to its regular hue with a twinkling flash of light. And the orb was gone.
Wesley inspected his , then gingerly showed his fingertips to Brian, presuming that he'd know what to do. Brian nodded.
"What is it?" Joanne asked.
Wesley extended his index fingers and displayed them to the group. The tips were stained blue as if a ballpoint had exploded in his hands. He rubbed them gingerly against his thumbs but none of the colour was imparted to them. After a few moments, the smudges dissipated into defined rings that circumnavigated the spot just below his fingernail.
"It's part of you now," Brian announced, "And we'll be hoping to follow your lead soon."
Sooner than anyone had expected. Through another portal they plummeted, resurfacing in somewhere a whole lot chillier than Chicago.
