The first thing Elara Vance learned about being a Void Pirate was that the "ocean" wasn't wet. It was static.
New Seattle floated in a boundless, violet abyss. Below the jagged concrete edge of the city, there was no ground, only a swirling soup of unformed ideas, deleted scenes, and raw creative potential that looked suspiciously like grape soda.
"Captain," Aldren Vance said, stepping onto the observation deck of the Space Needle.
The Vampire Lord was wearing a plastic tricorn hat he had looted from the gift shop. He had also tied a 'Seattle Mariners' scarf around his waist like a sash.
"The starboard side of the city is drifting," Aldren reported gravely. "The wind... it smells of lavender and ozone. Also, Mr. Henderson says the Glitch-Cats are getting seasick."
Elara rubbed her eyes. She was still wearing the grease-stained hoodie. She hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, not since they severed the reality anchor and let the city drift off the map.
