Describe a city as if it's a location in a fantasy novel and I will try to guess the city
In the wooded lowlands between the old mountains and a sea some fool once thought to call "the Peaceful Sea," there was built a quaint and splendid little city with a boardwalk and a clock tower and a disused train station that had been repurposed into a hotel. One could easily forget that every inch of every human structure built there was composed entirely of coagulated human blood, formed around the bones like clay, and every corner was decorated with teeth and dried entrails.
What the fuck. Is it... Eureka??
Close - Santa Cruz.
A halfday's journey from the coastline gleaming in the space between two rivers a city, she stands, full of history and magic amidst cobblestone and concrete and glass that reaches to the High Heavens. At her heart is independence-- That's what the building is called, after all, Independence Hall and that is what she seeks. Inside, the echoes of the Founding Fathers- wise men, sages, inventors and, most importantly, dreamers like her and their quills enchanted with ink to forge strong the bonds of brotherly love- the likes of which she'd never known.
Around the newer City Hall bustles to life a bazaar, filled with potions and elixirs, clothing and fabrics in bright reds and deep greens. She lays eyes on one green tunic upon which an eagle sprawls- the city's charmed mascot- strength and freedom and beauty as it flies high through the sunset. With a glance around, to be sure she won't be caught, she stuffs the item down into her blouse and wraps it tight. No one would suspect a pregnant lass alone of any misdeeds.
Continuing to the North, she finds the cityscape change. Streets turn dark. Friendly shopkeepers calling attention to her wares become shady tinctures passed between shadier figures. Above her, the carriage train rattles and sends a shiver down her spine.
Before she knows it, though, she's in the outermost reaches of the city, hardly a city anymore and she can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Her small cottage near old Franklin's Mill isn't much, but it's home.
Philadelphia, that wasn’t too hard
