Aortic spasms drum the air, a wild discord that slowly drags into rhythm. The massed line of them, intention and weight, pulling for synchronicity. Pressure inverts. The Rift sucks inward, and their feet skitter now for the wrong direction, drawn near — too near —
(Somewhere, behind, there sounds a distant crunch.)
A final claw reaches out, throws one long, slimy limb into the solidity of being. Fade steams. Time slows, stills, in one great ringing echo,
And then the Rift implodes.
The arm crashes down, a wet slap of meat. It writhes at Strange's feet before dissipating into goo. Cedric's stance slips loose, breath ragged. It's a job to disentangle. He slumps for the stone floor. Which is when the cry goes up:
"Rina!" The Mournwatcher. Another cradles her head, hair matted for red. Her eyes shoot wide around the burble of a bloody mouth. Her chest heaves onto a gory jumble, whole, moments before. The great tracks of something huge lead away, deeper into the hall. Gone, now. The demons are gone now. Their fuel is.
"Got a doctor," Cedric scrambles for it, useless on jellied limbs and no particular training. "C'mon —"
But he must recognize, closer, that he's volunteered Stephen to a lost cause. Rina is dying. Her fingers stretch limp at the air, grasping for something invisible. He grips her hand, but his own won't shut; tendons still straining, overtaxed.
you know what i like
(Somewhere, behind, there sounds a distant crunch.)
A final claw reaches out, throws one long, slimy limb into the solidity of being. Fade steams. Time slows, stills, in one great ringing echo,
And then the Rift implodes.
The arm crashes down, a wet slap of meat. It writhes at Strange's feet before dissipating into goo. Cedric's stance slips loose, breath ragged. It's a job to disentangle. He slumps for the stone floor. Which is when the cry goes up:
"Rina!" The Mournwatcher. Another cradles her head, hair matted for red. Her eyes shoot wide around the burble of a bloody mouth. Her chest heaves onto a gory jumble, whole, moments before. The great tracks of something huge lead away, deeper into the hall. Gone, now. The demons are gone now. Their fuel is.
"Got a doctor," Cedric scrambles for it, useless on jellied limbs and no particular training. "C'mon —"
But he must recognize, closer, that he's volunteered Stephen to a lost cause. Rina is dying. Her fingers stretch limp at the air, grasping for something invisible. He grips her hand, but his own won't shut; tendons still straining, overtaxed.