Great, just fucking great.
Reizele stood in the center of a London she barely recognized. At least Pen had had the decency to transport her to somewhere she might know better with a day ticket. But the day was only that long and it was nearing three o' clock. As Rose walked past what looked like a school she was surprised to see teenagers saying goodbye to their friends and being picked up by their parents. Some of them went to nearby cafés together, chatting as happily as she would have with her friends. The teachers looked very content as they sent away their pupils, and only slightly sad, because tomorrow, Sunday, was the last day of the school week. Rose remembered her own days at school. She had always been impulsive, defiant, sometimes even rude, though for some reason her teachers always seemed to think that she was the most absolutely perfect student anyone could have. She would never have been caught dead having tea with her parents in public after school.
Rose started to walk again and soon she found that her feet and her sense of direction had led het to what was quite clearly Westminster Bridge, or rather, what was left of it. The once magnificent bridge was now an equally magnificent ruin. It had broken in half in the middle as if it were a structure made of Lego rather than an ancient stone bridge, and it was evident that some of the fallen stone had been stolen a long time ago. The Thames flowed around the stones lazily. Dazed, Reizele stopped, and then started to walk towards a little plaque on a lanternpost. It said:
These are the ruins of Westminster Bridge, an ancient stone structure from before the Chaos. The bridge cannot be restored to its previous condition due to stone shortage. However, it is underheld yearly from the personal funds of Mark Modeste.
Rose looked at the ruins. They didn't look like they were underheld in any way. She then got an idea. She looked around, made sure there were no policemen around, and started to walk confidently towards the bridge. With some trouble coming mostly from her long skirt, she clambered down the first half of the ruins, and started to climb up the second half. Once she was up, she looked back. London had changed so much in these two centuries. She had no idea why she even decided to cross the Thames like this, instead of by the new bridge which was visible from here. Still, now that she was on the other side, she kept walking. Something looked very different, very wrong. It wasn't until she looked down and saw ash underneath her feet that she realized what it was.
Big Ben was gone.
All that remained of the enormous tower with the clock was a charred ruin that looked very fresh. She was caught in the fire at the Liz, Pen's voice echoed through her head. So this is the Liz.
A blackened plaque on the wall told her that this was Queen Elizabeth's Tower, that it had not suffered at all from the Chaos, and that it was underheld from Mark Modeste's personal funds.
'Not very modest, is he?' Reizele muttered. She jumped when she heard a voice answer her:
'You think so?'