the breeze beneath our feet; the starlight waiting above | ∞ Aug 10, 2019 10:27:28 GMT -5
Post by shrimp on Aug 10, 2019 10:27:28 GMT -5
The first sign is a television.
It glitches and jumps, yellow mixing with magenta mixing with cyan. Characters splatter onto the monitor, appearing then warping in a split-second. The static fills the screen, fills the air with an uncanny hum.
Perhaps you shiver with the sound: it is cold, after all. Long since the airlocks gave way to the elements, it's difficult to tell the ship from the land: all you see is a sheet of snow, a world of frost and ice. Whispers echo: of the wind? Of electric sheep? There are words, tangible syllables that echo in your ear.
The second sign is the mist. It encroaches on your hiding place, sweeping around you and sinking into your skin. It forces you out — the hairs on your arms reach out towards the heavens; the acid in your gut tells you it's time.
The whispers grow stronger: the cadenzas turn coherent, amplifying and undulating on top each other. Twenty-two voices breathe life into a song left by the dead and gone, a song for their final spectators. As you find yourself entering the Cornucopia, the message becomes clearer. Beams of light shoot out from every angle, and as you walk into one pillar of white you walk out of another — on the other side of the room.
And still, even as you acquiesce, give in or stand up to the final fight of your life, a phrase — from whispers to gasping shrieks — burrow into your heart.
Darkness lays steadily against the ship
But those who moves within it—are darker
Something behind my hiding place
Goes—drip, drip, drip.
In my hand, there is just a black marker
I am defenseless, easy prey, a fear-filled face
I dare not move, I dare not scream
The words I write, at least calm my bloodstream
There’s an ancient saying, passed on
From tongue to tongue:
No one can hear you scream in space.
Kassandra Nerys - 5.0 damage
Dark Sabre (+1 to critical hits)
Red Stone - 4.5 damage
Light Sabre (+1 to critical hits)