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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:23:55 GMT -6
As if the dire situation hadn't been punctuated with enough reason for concern, the grave silence of the room would abruptly be shattered by a colossal gout of radiant white flame slamming into the wall at the end of the corridor, apparently from around the bend in the tunnel. The swirls of hazy purple coloration left behind when the flame dissipated would suggest that an infernal was responsible, though not any that Dicro would be able to name. Generally speaking, holy-aligned magical abilities didn't mesh well with Ignis' energies, but that was likely the least of his concerns at the moment. Whoever it was down there, they were putting up a fight, judging by the continued flashes of light and shattering of stone up ahead.
That, however, was was far from the only issue that the two were about to encounter. If Yval attempted to heed Dicro's warning and retreat back through the hallway where they had entered, he would find himself unable to pass through the barrier entirely. Furthermore, any attempt at teleportation would fizzle out entirely, be it magical or otherwise, as would attempted communication with the outside. Something was intent on keeping someone in here, that's for sure.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:24:07 GMT -6
Oh dear. That wasn't good. The only thing that made it worse was the sudden silence breaker coming from the end. :dicro:
Yval gave a small nod, turning around and walking back...... well, he would have been able too if the barrier didn't do that god awful thing.
"The hell..?"
First, he tried casting Misty Step; it fizzled out immediately. Guess it didn't like that. The next thing he tried was Dimension Door.....
"Ow!"
In case it wasn't clear to Dicro, Yval took some damage from a failed teleport attempt. Yval quietly moved back over to Dicro regardless of whether he reacted to that, "Uhhhhhh, can't do that." :dicro: :dicro:
Ain't that just peachy.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:24:18 GMT -6
Dicro was relieved that Yval took his order so well. He knew this wasn't going to be good either way, but he was happy that Yval wouldn't have to witness- Oh. Fuck. Nevermind. The dread in Dicro's expression was plainly obvious despite the lack of light. He tried to speak up, but the words caught in his throat, leaving things silent for a few seconds before the flames forced the gears in his brain to keep turning. What the hell was that? The mixture of Infernal and holy energy was unsettling, and the split-second pondering over that let him realized something else was wrong. Yval wouldn't notice this, but Dicro knew enough about Infernals to realize this situation was adding up to be more bizarre and uncomfortable than he initially thought. Infernals, when killed, essentially poofed out of existence, not unlike how Tested bodies faded away upon death. It wasn't like they just gave up when injured or anything, either; there should've been some sign of motion here, some sign of magical restraint, but there was nothing. The lines grew confused and tangled, only worrying him further. What motive would someone have to just restrain a bunch of Infernals instead of killing them? If they couldn't kill them, how could they incapacitate them? That seemed even more difficult. Furthermore, why were there so many? Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking. For the love of God, stop thinking, just do something to make time move, do something to make it end. Just let it end. "Stay behind me!" he ordered as he unclipped his spade pin and transformed it, the primal part of his brain launching him into a run toward the source of the conflict.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:24:27 GMT -6
Once Dicro - and, presumably, Yval - made it to the heaps of unmoving Infernals, another detail would come into view, albeit one that would once again only raise more questions than anything: the fallen Infernals all bore wounds of various shapes and sizes, carved through their robes and armor as if it offered no resistance at all. The fact that any kind of weapon would visibly damage their gear was concerning enough, considering that the vast majority of their equipment was formed from their own soul energy, but to make matters worse, whatever sort of weapon or magic the attacker had utilized left behind traces of energy that could best be described as incomprehensible. It seemed almost tangible - as if someone had distilled the static from an old TV set and concentrated it into liquid form - settling into the Infernals' injuries like a coat of heavy, viscous tar. Yet, at the same time, it seemed ineffably volatile, humming and buzzing with excitement with the same sort of energy that one might expect from a hive of wasps dipped in gunpowder and lit on fire.
Whatever this stuff was, there was certainly no shortage of it, being present on every Infernal collapsed in the corridor. Any attempts to rouse them would be met with zero response, the Infernals in question not so much as shifting in place in utter defiance of the laws of physics when shaken. The most they would receive as far as a response goes would be a shock and lingering prickling sensation when coming in contact with the weird energy, not unlike falling asleep on one's arm.
Well, there's plenty of time to contemplate that when the danger of whatever the hell trapped them down here has passed! Considering that the emanations of radiant light had subsided, one of the combatants up ahead had given in or been incapacitated, so it was only a matter of time before they were no longer alone once more.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:24:38 GMT -6
Yval stayed quiet as he followed close behind Dicro. Once they got to the fallen infernals, he tried to suppress his discomfort as he made An Attempt™ to identify whatever magic this was. The results.....................
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Fuck.
Now he wished he hadn't tried that in the first place. This along with whoever was fighting now more likely than not dead or (maybe) incapacitated, "Can't even identify what kind of magic this is, if at all... this is very disturbing,"
The feeling only intensified when Yval tried to shake one of the infernals. Not even dead people are this stiff, what the hell's going on?
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:25:23 GMT -6
Dicro slowed down as he and Yval progressed down the corridor, the uncanny energy forcing his attention. He stopped entirely as Yval began investigating, unable to resist the urge to follow suit and tentatively check out an Infernal himself. He pulled back his hand immediately, the sensation shocking him more than it should have. He scrambled back, the blood drained out of his face, mind buzzing. It wasn't that bad it was just... why did it feel so famili̷a̛r͜? He jerked his head around suddenly when Yval spoke up, quickly settling back down to his base level of confusion and panic. "Yeah, I... neither can I," he responded, not sure how to be optimistic or comforting at the moment. Was he not connecting the dots after all? What exactly was this? Dicro was no stranger to the unnatural, the surreal. Subconscious exploration was his primary hobby, he'd spent time on the fringes of Entirety, and death was a common event for him. There was no reason for any of this to create a pressure in his mind, a tunneling of vision, a skip in his heartbeat, a chill on his skin, a pervading feeling of dread with a sense of finality. It was a primordial unsettling, an existential discomfort, a looming nothing he found himself afraid of. He stared ahead, noting the sudden inactivity. He said nothing to Yval, not even another reminder to stay back, body moving on autopilot to investigate.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:25:35 GMT -6
Now that they had rounded the corner, Dicro and Yval would find themselves in what seemed like some sort of cistern that connected a handful of tunnels. The whole network of tunnels was never particularly well-mapped, so without their missing guide, it was anyone's guess as to where the rest of the tunnels went. Of the other four entrances, one seemed to have collapsed, a pile of scorched debris covering the entirety of the passage. The other three displayed evidence of the conflict that had just occurred: scorch marks, partially-melted stonework, and no shortage of gouges in the stone that matched up with the appearance of the first one a few corridors back.
Considering Dicro's rapid autopilot pace, it would only take a few moments for him to come across what he could likely assume was the lone casualty of the scuffle still present in the room-- a lone Infernal, sizable even by the standards of their race, clad in an impressive suit of full-plate armor covered in no shortage of spikes and embellishments. For better or worse, Dicro would find this particular Infernal to be unmistakable: Holten the Adamant, the de facto leader of the Incursors and the oldest serving individual in the entire Infernal Guard. Like the others, he was rooted to the spot where he fell, slumped down onto one knee with his arms at his sides.
Upon further inspection, provided that either of the maids were willing to examine the fallen Incursor, two things would stand out as particularly eye-catching. The first was the weapon still clutched in Holten's frozen hands-- or the remains thereof, that is. Despite being in two pieces, Dicro would possibly be able to recognize the hefty warhammer as a specialty of high-ranking Incursors; a weapon both forged and awarded by Ignis and the Procurators themselves, inherently magic-nullifying and imbued with a slew of enhancements that allowed them to go toe-to-toe with the likes of the Brotherhood on equal footing. Considering Yval's background, he would find the dark, dense metal to be fairly similar to the adamantium of his own homeland. The second was the single lengthy slash in Holten's equally-enhanced armor, starting at his left shoulder and trailing all the way down through his torso, leaving a clean cut not unlike those left in the walls nearby. Judging by the lack of other gouges in his armor, it took but one clean strike to cleave though a nigh-unbreakable weapon and take him out of the fight. It seemed that he had attempted to block using the haft of his hammer, with disastrous results.
:dicro:
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:25:44 GMT -6
Dicro lacked the proper headspace to feel apprehensive about walking into such an open area, especially with so little understanding of direction from here. His body pushed him forward, giving attention to the debris for only brief moments, mind far more focused on the figure in the middle of the room. For a moment he held out his arm to keep Yval back, then silently lowered it once he recognized who he was seeing. With the faintest glimmer of hope, he ran over to Holten's side. "Holt-!"Dicro stopped dead in his tracks, trying to process what he was seeing. He stepped back, a rare expression of horror clear on his face. His eyes flickered to Yval, then immediately back. No, don't tell him anything. Don't tell him all of this equipment, this weapon, all of it was made to combat situations exactly like this. Don't tell him how significant Holten is. ...Was? A bead of sweat ran down his face. Were any of the Infernals still alive? Infernals didn't "die" the way a normal person did, which ordinarily would be a cause for optimism, but the complete lack of response or motion from any of them was unnatural. Was that some property of whatever grotesque weapon managed to so easily cleave through armor and weaponry of such unrivaled quality? Did it freeze people in time, trapping them in their moment of death for eternity? Did it tear the souls from their body, leaving nothing but an empty husk? They were both such exaggerated examples, but Dicro had no evidence to the contrary. The caliber of the threat they were dealing with was beyond anything Dicro had ever experienced, made all the worse by the fact that he had Yval to protect. Thinking of him in a condition like that, what a single effortless swipe of this theoretical blade would do to him- Don't think don't think don't think don't think "Stay here for a minute," he requested, just looking ahead again. "See if you can... if... if you can get some kind of response."His voice was stilted, and the sound of it made Dicro uncomfortable. It was a reminder that he was here, in his body, in this space, not lost in some common nightmare. He cautiously approached each of the three other tunnels in turn, trying to see if there was a particular one that could lead them somewhere useful. He tentatively called out for Ismare again, seeing little consequence in giving away their presence and position when they already had nowhere to run. They'd made plenty of noise on top of that, and he was sure anyone with the kind of power on display throughout the tunnels was more than capable of sensing their vibes already. The way he saw it, they either got an ally out of it or invited their suffering to end sooner. The latter was at least preferable to standing here, suffocating on his own dread.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:25:54 GMT -6
Yval quietly nodded again. He saw little point in trying to get a response, but..
"Hey, this weapon... I recognize the metal."
Oh. Oh, that's really bad for Dicro.
"Er, not really but it's similar to adamantium. It's... supposed to..... nullify magic."
Oh no. :dicro:
"...Dicro? I'm ninety-five percent sure we're super mega fucked." Would it kill you to be a little optimistic about this, Yval? It really didn't help that he sounded like he's pretty much accepted this and his voice was leaning toward the deadpan side. :dicro:
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:26:02 GMT -6
Sure enough, the stagnant terror gripping the tunnels would come to an abrupt end once Dicro called out once more. In the blink of an eye, both Dicro and Yval would be able to sense an upturn in the level of odd, static-y energy signature present in the corridors. It wasn't particularly oppressive, though the tingling, numb sensation it brought with it was plenty cause for more concern. For the moment, it appeared that the feeling of mild discomfort was the worst that would happen in terms of adverse effects.
...At least, if you were Dicro, that is.
The silence would be broken by the oh-so-distinctive sound of metal cleaving through flesh. Where Dicro had been standing moments before, Yval now stood, having had the opportunity to react and attempt to interpose with his magic between the unidentified flying murder object and its apparently intended target, the layers of abjuration magic intended to ward off the blow pierced as if they hadn't even been cast in the first place. He had been run through the chest entirely by what one could best describe as a greatsword composed of space; the sizable blade appearing to be an inky blue-black material criss-crossed with stars, constellations, and celestial bodies. Aside from the bizarre appearance, the weapon absolutely reeked of that numbing vibe, perhaps unsurprisingly to the one still present.
"Well, damnation, wasn't expecting that."
As the blade in question apparently blinked out of existence, leaving behind a now all-too-familiar, static-y hole through Yval's chest in its wake, a voice sounded out from the hallway opposite the one from which they had entered. It was soon accompanied by heavy, clanking footsteps, and then a figure-- a tall individual clad entirely in a suit of relatively worn-down black armor, partially shrouded by a nondescript black cloak.
"Seems that your aura of ruin extends to others no matter the time or space. I shouldn't be surprised, all things considered, but to see it in action is something else. Must be like any other Tuesday for you," the figure coolly commented, their relaxed air contradicting the fact that they had just finished slaughtering an army's worth of Ignis' employees. The sword that had vanished once again reappeared, this time in the figure's armored hand, though he seemed to be in no hurry to utilize it again. The unceasing, vaguely familiar buzz of alien energy only increased as the figure drew closer, leaving no shortage of questions that Dicro might want to pose.
Or he could run and fight, but Dicro seemed fairly set in his methodology at this point.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:26:14 GMT -6
Dicro's blood ran cold. He froze in place, like a deer in headlights, waiting for the crash, waiting to die. He turned around, and he ran, ran to Yval's side, putting a shaking hand on him, flinching away, flinching at his flinching, blood getting colder. Stupid. Idiot. Why did he leave his side, even by an inch, for even more than a second. Why. Why. Why. He jerked up at the sound of a voice, so quickly that he thought he could see himself outside of his body, wishing that was true, wishing he wasn't here, wishing that he was about to wake up, wishing that this was all some bad dream. He still felt his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of the stranger's voice, who he almost didn't register as a stranger because his voice sounded so familiar, the casual loathing in his voice so earned, the visage, the tone, waiting for the crash, waiting to die "Bl..."His voice trailed off. He didn't mean to speak in the first place. What was he going to say? "Black, please don't kill my boyfriend?" As though he had the right to ask anything of him. Who else would it be? With a vendetta like that, with a weapon like that, with a voice like that, but why the feeling why didn't this feel right? When he first saw the bodies and the barrier he thought he would walk down here, that he would find Black here, that Yval could run off and Dicro would get his penance and it would be Fine at worst, it would be fine, he would understand what was happening and it would be what he was expecting from what kept him up at night and it would ruin him but it would be fine. Everyone else would be fine. It would be fine. But this wasn't right. It was wr͏o̡n̨g. The feeling was wrong. The spac̵e was wrong. The hole in Yval's chest was wrong. And it was Dicro's fault, for existing, Black was right about that. He always was. He always would be. His body was completely drained of color as he stumbled to put himself between Yval and the stranger - no, probably not - despite the damage already being thoroughly done. But maybe he could pretend it away. Maybe if he played along he'd wake up, the crash, Why would Black come here? This wasn't like him, he thought. Why bother, when he had the wards? He had the anger, but he was no longer the man who would walk into enemy territory alone, leaving loose ends alive, hurting any innocents in the way. Wh̸y we͘r͏e th̴e͘ ̢sta̸r̀s f͢o҉ŗm̴ing ͏a̢ fac͏e͠ ͞in͜ ̧hi̶s͝ m͝i̷nd͠?̷ "Who are you?" was all he could think to say, just barely muttered, eyes as wide as they could be, waiting, waiting, lost in a space beyond thinking.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:26:28 GMT -6
Dicro's first response was met with a cold, uncaring scoff, though it quickly turned into silence once Dicro managed to stammer out his query. The stranger emerged from the hallway into the cistern proper, their helmet's lack of expression doing nothing to stymie their overwhelming aura of contempt and loathing.
"Hah. As if the Black you know could muster up the drive to carry a plan into action," the figure again bluntly stated, the contempt in his voice visceral and almost tangible, as if the odd energy lent a certain impossible weight to his words. They continued their slow, unrelenting march towards the center of the room, blade now casually slung over their left shoulder. If they expected Dicro to put up any sort of resistance, they certainly were not showing it.
"I am something else entirely. I am a living testament to the careless atrocities that you and your predecessors have permitted to occur, time and time again. I am a scale by which your feigned ignorance and empty gestures of reconciliation are measured, and found wanting. But most of all," the maybe-stranger paused, his hands moving towards his helmet, though the greatsword remained in place across his shoulder in blatant defiance of all known natural laws, "I am the vengeance of a people who will not see their dismal end come to fruition once more, no matter the cost."
The offending helmet vanished into a whisp of the selfsame static, leaving Dicro to piece together exactly what - or who - it was with which he was dealing. On the surface, it certainly looked like Black, his silver hair and steely blue eyes as unmistakable as ever... but since when were Black's features so gaunt and devoid of life? When did he let his hair go wildly out of control, looking more like he hadn't bothered to look in a mirror in a few centuries? And most of all, since when was Black capable of making an expression that looked nearly as dead as those of his apparent victims scattered throughout the maintenance tunnels?
"I am not your Black Yoshi."
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:26:36 GMT -6
The Black you knew. Atrocities, vengeance, a dismal end- He thought about the phone in his pocket. He thought about what he showed Arquen, what he'd planned to show Ignis. That second him. That weird... clone. Those pictures he saw of him, with white hair, with purple eyes, with the attire of an Infernal. He thought of the f̩̘͞e͏̥̺̣̻͈̪e͍̪͜l̼̪͎̱͚i̠̫̲̜̹n̛̳͙g̡̯͈͈͚̗̯ he felt earlier, when he collapsed, when everything turned into static, how it so closely - but not quite - matched this Black's aura. The room spun. The Test Reality was time-locked, thanks to Opine's power. There was no "future." There was no alternate timeline from which either this Black or that Dicro could have hailed. There was no alternate universe. There was no way for there to be some alternate Dicro who'd flung himself full-force into Ignis' world, prompting the ire of an alternate Black to find the Dicro who was standing here, now, shaking. Dicro knew in the depths of his heart, the darkest corner of his mind that there could be such a future, someday, and he grew closer to making it, but what he was staring at now was an impossibility of the highest caliber. How did he exist? Where was he from? This wasn't possible. This wasn't possible. He searched his brain for some answer, but came up with nothing, words screaming through his skull too quickly to comprehend his own thoughts. Get out. Get away from here. Get anywhere, make some distance, do something. He didn't think about the barrier. He'd break through the fucking thing, he didn't care, he couldn't just stand here and wait to see what this Black would do! As soon as he took in the truth of his face, Dicro grabbed Yval and-- Fuck. Yval was rooted to the ground, thoroughly and completely, by whatever grotesque magic or anti-magic or fucking reality-bending or God knows what that sword was made of, what was he supposed to do, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave Yval here, there was some slim hope that maybe he and the others were alive somehow, but there sure fucking wouldn't be if Dicro just left them down here, defenseless, not to mention he never found Ismare. Who was he kidding? They were probably in the back of a hall somewhere, frozen like everyone else. Concerned about retaliation for his sudden movement, Dicro quickly transitioned into raking a pair of chains across the room as a tentative barrier, holding his spade in front of him defensively as if it would do anything. It didn't give him peace of mind to make-believe, either, it was just pure animal instinct that drove him to so much as breathe. What could he do? The thought of killing himself came to mind again. Could he? The chains just worked, so could he drive one through his skull? What about Yval's? He could get his soul out of Limbo. Would that be a mercy? Or would it freeze when it touched him? Would it go through, but his consciousness would still be trapped in place? Was he conscious right now, in agony? He would have thrown up if he had any control over his body. "Then whose are you?!" he blurted out, feeling his mind slip out of his skull, feeling panic flood into his throat. "Where are you from?! How did you get here?! Why not just take me, then?! I-"He didn't even know what he was saying anymore, his confusion and terror evident across every inch of his body and then some. I what? What? I would never what? I haven't what? I'm not what? Wasn't he? Wasn't he always? Black was right. So why not just take him? Why not just kill him? Just end him already, why not just end him, why did everyone else have to suffer for his fucking actions like they always did over and over first with Tintra and then all of the Tested and his alliance then Exuro and always Black and now this Black and why couldn't it just end? Wouldn't it be easier? Couldn't he just kill him? Couldn't he just die? Despite the speed of his voice, despite the franticness, he immediately clammed up, knowing there wasn't a single word he could say that would matter. Not to Black. Not to Dicro himself.
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 2:45:05 GMT -6
"Because... Dicro," the strange Black began, visibly hesitating before referring to Dicro directly, "That's never enough. You and I both know that your death changes nothing. I could kill you time and time again, but that won't change the simple fact of what you are and how deep your connections run."
He paused one again, casting a remorseless glare down at Dicro's efforts to dislodge Yval from where he had been frozen. Rather unsurprsingly, he seemed nonplussed by Dicro's attempts at warding him off, opting to nonchalantly lean on the pommel of his blade, which had ceased floating and was now stuck point-first in the floor. A myriad of alien celestial bodies and constellations drifted across the flat of the blade, displaying everything from a star mid-supernova to strangely :3-faced cluster of stars hovering just above the hilt of the weapon.
"I had fully intended on eliminating you from the picture here and now, but it seems your friend there had other ideas. A shame, really, wasting all that emotional labor on a monster like you. I can, of course, repeat the process, if you'd be so kind as to hold still for another minute or two. These old bones don't hold together like a Tested body."
If not-Black had intended on making any more dry, cutting remarks, they were abruptly cut short by a blinding pillar of radiant energy that consumed a small area around him. If Dicro managed to crane his head, he would see the familiar, purple-robed form of Ismare burst from the rubble blocking off the last tunnel.
"No talking, we're going! Move move move no arguments!"
As if to reinforce their point, Ismare opened their jaw - apparently the skull wasn't decoration, after all - and let loose an equally-familiar jet of radiant white flames, encircling the pillar with yet another layer of rather-surprising protection. From there, the last thing that Dicro would see would be a complex runic pattern appearing in the air above the Infernal before he disappeared into a blip of white light.
That certainly wasn't how you expected this topic to go, was it?
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Post by Tayl on Aug 20, 2019 3:29:44 GMT -6
Dicro was completely transfixed as "Black" spoke, not moving an inch. Why would he say he could kill him time and time again, but act like that sword would do anything permanent? Why did those stars make that face, that face that should look stupid but made him wonder so absurdly that his train of thought dissipated somewhere in that void? "What you are?" What? What was he? Why didn't he move? It wasn't as though he couldn't. Was it as though he shouldn't? He'd been waiting for this, hadn't he? Ismare had a hold on Dicro before he could even blink. He didn't have any time to jump, to flinch, to feel relief, to feel panic, to realize what was happening and scream for them to stop because Yval was still right there and- Just like that, they were gone. Click.Now that the chaos had calmed, the sound of a phone camera's shutter echoed throughout the cistern. If 2lack happened to grant it his attention, he'd notice a slime doing a convincing job of camouflaging as a pile of clothing on the ground toward the tunnel Dicro and Yval had entered through. It seemed undeterred either way, nonchalantly snapping another picture. Before stopping, absorbing the phone into its body, and just barely forming something that resembled a body, hugging the entrance close. "...Are you available for comment," she asked bluntly, not completely absent of fear but not exactly displaying a level of intimidation anywhere near what was warranted. What, you didn't forget about that goopy shuffle from the beginning, did you?
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