Crow took them. “Thanks.” She handed one to Dove and they wrote notes to their mom and grandmother, respectively.
Crow handed them back to Azrael. “Um, I’m not sure how to ask this, but could you somehow teleport them to our houses?”
"done." and the sticky notes vanished.
Crow raised her eyebrows. “Nice. I suppose we will join you then.”
Azrael opened the first portal to D-45.
“Where exactly does it go?” Dove asked, looking in awe at the portal.
"Dimension D-45."
"Just, be careful, ok?"
“Oh… ok,” It didn’t answer her question, but she didn’t say anything else.
They entered the portal.
Crow took Dove’s hand, whispering, “We’re together, and that’s what matters. Just remember that anything could happen.” She kept her eyes ahead of her, while Dove stared at the floor.
"Lets find him," Allison said.
“Where could he have gone?” Crow asked, surveying their surroundings.
"Beats me," Azrael said, "It seems like we're in a video game."
(Can you please describe the world? There’s not a lot of information about the characters or their surroundings, and it makes it hard to figure out a reply.)
(Okay i will.)
The world was very static, not a lot of movement, and the movement that did happen, was like it was programmed to happen.
“Woah,” Dove gazed at the pixelated world around them.
“Cool,” Crow said. “Anyway, could we ask around, if there are people in this world who could have seen him. Or one of us could scout ahead.”
"I will scout head," Azrael said Irishly.
"Wait, it hasn't finished loading, the graphics on this are outta this world!" Grimm said.
“It hasn’t finish loading? How long before it does?” Crow tried to step forward, but she couldn’t move. Her foot began to glitch, and before she knew it her foot was right where it started.
"Lets go, lads and lassies!" Allison said like a true Irish woman.
"Only a few seconds," Azrael said.
“Yeah, I don’t think we can move right now,” Dove said. She tried to stay perfectly still.
"Thats easy to fix," Azrael demostrated as she made them not glitchy.
"Now, lets a-go!" Azrael said.
"You're not going anywhere!" A voice sounding like a 30's radio talkshow host said.
"Cefora."
They turned around. His devilish, beautifully evil blue eyes looked at the group. He was a snaply dresser. He had a pure black pimp cane.
"What can I do for ya?" He said. He had a very light Irish accent.
They all drew their weapons.